Blurred
by el spirito
Summary: Tony wakes up with no idea where he is, or what happened, and time is running out...now complete.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

xxxx

DiNozzo opened his eyes with a groan, his head pounding and his vision worryingly blurry. He couldn't tell where he was, the confusion combining with the headache and making things seem entirely more disconcerting than he liked.

Reaching out blindly, his hand connected with something he soon recognized as a steering wheel, frowning in confusion. He was in a car, then. But where was he, and how had he gotten there? He realized suddenly that he was freezing, teeth chattering, and that he didn't have a jacket, just the thin, lime green shirt that McGee and Ziva were so fond of making fun of.

Tony groped for his cell phone, frowning when it wasn't in his pocket or the center console. What the hell was going on? Frustrated, Tony stopped for a moment, allowing his head to fall back against what he assumed was the driver's seat headrest. Taking a deep breath, DiNozzo started replaying what he could remember of the day's events.

He showed up for work in the morning, a bit late, but nothing out of the ordinary. He'd…talked to Ziva and McGee and Gibbs, surely? Maybe gotten a few headslaps, drunk a few coffees, used the head? Grating his knuckles against his eyes, DiNozzo let out a dejected yell, wondering why the hell he was unable to remember _anything_. Blinking his eyes open again, he was surprised to see that his vision was starting to clear.

"Well, thanks for small favors," he grumbled as the steering wheel became clearer, and he could see that the car was definitely not his own.

"The hell?" He muttered, leaning over the center console as he reached for the glove box, hoping to find some kind of documentation. As he shifted, though, the car let out a low, grumbling moan, and the entire frame shifted to the right. Startled, DiNozzo stopped moving, muscles tense as the car finally settled and stopped creaking.

"Holy crap," he muttered, wracking his brain for some kind of clue that could explain his current predicament, even as he slowly and carefully peered out the window.

And suddenly, he remembered everything with horrifying clarity, even as he realized that he was in a pretty bad situation. A _really_ bad situation.

Anthony DiNozzo was sitting in an old, broken down car partly on and partly off an old, broken down bridge over a swirling river that promised to be even colder than the car he was stuck in.

Cautiously trying to open the door and failing, then initiating a fruitless search for his cell phone frustrated Tony even more, and he knew, sitting in a creaking car with clattering teeth and numb fingers, that if there was any time ha had had to rely completely on Gibbs and his gut, it was now.

xxxx

A/N: So I've been wanting to write another NCIS fic for a while but was drawing a blank, then came up with this idea…let me know if I should continue.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! I REALLY appreciate it. **

**xxxx**

**Five Days Earlier:**

**Gibbs had to hold back a smile as he walked into the bullpen with a fresh cup of coffee. McGee was resolutely sitting at his desk, typing out his report for a case they'd just finished, staring determinedly at his screen as a barrage of well-aimed paper clips and wads of paper rained down on him. Ziva was at her own desk trying not to laugh, and the perpetrator, DiNozzo as always, was leaning back in his chair, feet on his desk, casually flinging the homemade projectiles with practiced accuracy. **

"**DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked, and Tony blanched, feet swinging awkwardly from the desk and sending paper fluttering to the floor. **

"**Boss!" He yelped, struggling to regain composure. A split second later, a smooth, easy grin appeared, and DiNozzo looked Gibbs in the eye. "Boss," he repeated, this time in a measured, confident tone accompanied by a huge grin. Ziva snorted from her desk and Tim shook his head. Gibbs finished chugging down his coffee and threw the cup expertly into a trashcan. **

"**We've gotta body," he announced, and immediately his team was on its feet, grabbing backpacks and throwing away empty cups. **

**A fifteen minute drive later, and they were standing in an alley, in front of a dumpster, a slightly mutilated and very smelly corpse directly in front of that. DiNozzo made a face as they approached, waving a hand in front of his face. **

"**I just love the smell of dead guys and garbage in the morning," he muttered, nostrils flared in an effort to avoid the stench. **

"**Petty officer Andrew Stevens," Gibbs announced as they drew near the cadaver. "Found by a transient going through the dumpster this morning." All three agents shuddered inwardly.**

"**DiNozzo, shoot and sketch, McGee evidence, Ziva, interviews." They went about their respective jobs quickly, DiNozzo still making grimaces every once in a while, McGee wrinkling his nose. Ducky and Palmer showed up around the same time McGee and Tony finished with the body. **

"**Oh dear," Ducky murmured, picking up one lifeless hand. "This poor chap seems to have been tortured before he was killed." Palmer nodded, looking at the fingers that were missing their nails. **

"**Jethro, I think you should have a look at this," Ducky called, and Gibbs approached quickly, squatting next to the elderly ME. Ducky held up the hand, and Gibbs peered at it a moment before nodding, running his tongue over his teeth. **

"**Torture." **

"**It would certainly seem so, Jethro," Ducky replied, using one finger to draw the body's lip up, revealing several missing teeth. "I would say definitely so." **

"**How long ago did he die, Duck?" **

"**Judging by his liver temp, I would say about nine hours or thereabouts. Initial cause of death appears to be blunt trauma to the head, but I'll be able to tell you more after I open him up." Gibbs stood up, leaving Palmer and Ducky to their work. **

"**Ziva, what can you tell me?" Gibbs asked as the Israeli wrapped up her interviews. **

"**Not a lot," she answered, glancing at the small notebook she held. "There's no one around to have seen anything, and the transient, one Philip Kowalski, said only that he was going through the garbage this morning, like every other morning, apparently, and that he was absolutely stunned by the discovery of the body." Gibbs said nothing, then turned to Tim.**

"**McGee?"**

"**His cell phone was still on him, but other than that, I couldn't really find anything.' Gibbs nodded, mouth set in a straight line.**

"**Let's get back to base and let Ducky do his autopsy, process the evidence."**

**xxxx**

**The lone evidence, the cell phone, was taken down to Abby's lab to get fingerprints and to see who Stevens had called last. Ducky was down in autopsy with Palmer, and the rest of the team was working on trying to hunt down some kind of clues. **

**It wasn't going well. DiNozzo, already bored, was contemplating returning to his earlier projectile-tossing ways, as they called anyone they could with ties to the dead petty officer. Dead ends and people who hadn't spoken to Stevens for years, a bunkmate who apparently never talked to him…It was getting frustrating. **

"**Why the hell would someone go to all the trouble of torturing someone so lame?" Tony groaned, and even McGee nodded in agreement. Gibbs came in suddenly, but none of them even feigned effort. **

"**Autopsy results are back," Gibbs said, opening a folder over his desk and spreading its contents. They were snapshots of Stevens' body, riddled with cigarette burns and small cuts, missing fingernails and teeth. One eye had been cut out. McGee grimaced and DiNozzo raised one eyebrow as Ziva peered at them in interest. **

"**Well, he was thoroughly tortured," she commented. "I wonder what information whoever did this was looking for."**

"**Yeah, and why they thought this guy would have it," McGee said, glancing again at the notes -or the lack thereof- that they had on the victim. **

"**He was a druggie," Gibbs said, pointing to a picture that clearly showed needle marks on Stevens' arms. "Cocaine." **

"**Maybe our torturer was a drug dealer?" Tony pondered aloud. McGee was looking at the pictures with a strange expression. "What's with the face, McGoo?"**

"**It's just, I think this seems familiar," Tim said, turning to get a different angle. "Not the images, obviously, but the methods of torture, the, uh, the missing eyeball." **

"**Well? Spit it out, McGee," Gibbs demanded, and Tim looked at him. **

"**I think that something like this happened really recently, in Dover. Within the past month recently."**

"**In Dover? Why do you know what's going on in Dover, McGeek?" Tony asked, one eyebrow raised. **

"**I just read their newspaper," McGee replied. "They didn't go into too much detail, but they mentioned torture and that one eye was gone." **

"**DiNozzo," Gibbs barked, turning to his senior agent.**

"**Already on it," Tony answered, phone to his ear as he dialed the Dover PD.**

**xxxx**

**Four hours later, DiNozzo entered the bullpen, his arms laden with boxes. **

"**Boss, we've got two boxes of evidence," he announced. **

"**Why didn't we get any off our guy?" McGee asked as they started pulling things out of the boxes. **

"**He might have gotten better at leaving no trace," Ziva responded. **

"_**Or**_** there might have been multiple victims," DiNozzo chimed in with a smirk. **

"**How many?" Gibbs asked, frowning. **

"**Two from the Dover PD, found together last month Westminster. All are missing one eyeball, and, get this, all are druggies." McGee nodded, comprehension dawning.**

"**So you're thinking that-"**

"**Yep. I think we've got ourselves a vigilante." **

**xxxx**

**Present: **

**DiNozzo shivered again, head tilted back against the seat, arms wrapped around his chest. He could see his breath in the air in front of him and vaguely wondered how long he'd been in the car. The light was just starting to wane outside now, and DiNozzo knew that it had been bright when he'd first awoken. Probably a day, then.**

**A wet cough erupted from Tony's mouth and he had to resist the urge to bend over as he hacked. It was strange, he thought, that remaining still was the only thing keeping him alive, but it was killing him. He wanted to move so badly it hurt, had taken to tapping frantically on his knee in an effort to remain calm. DiNozzos didn't freak out. **

**Coughing again, Tony felt a familiar ache beginning in his chest, his lungs starting to seize up on him as they struggled to work. **_**Shit. Of all the terrible situations to get himself into…His dad was going to kill him when he got home. After all, what kind of DiNozzo allowed himself to be caught off guard? **_

_**xxxx**_

_**When Tony opened his eyes again, it was to complete and total darkness. He realized dully that he must have passed out, and further thought led him to the conclusion that he had been confused beforehand, for some reason thought that his father was waiting for him. **_

"_**Must be worse off than I thought," he muttered to himself, then jumped when someone said his name. Turning slowly, Tony's eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he saw who was in the seat next to him. **_

"_**McGee?"**_


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Okay, so I really hated the last chapter and it's the one that I had the least figured out, so I wanted to update really soon and get past the ickiness that is the second chapter.

xxxx

Five Days Ago:

"So why didn't the other police departments run this evidence?" Ziva asked, looking at the spread of objects before them. There was another cell phone, two wallets, a partial footprint, pictures of the bodies, case files, and a few random odds and ends.

"Police departments don't have the kind of resources we do," Tony said, giving McGee a pointed look. McGee blushed and turned away, and the exchange did not go unnoticed by Ziva, who remained silent but raised an eyebrow in confusion. "They can't just check their fingerprints against national databases, and they have a helluva lot of crap to deal with."

"Well, let's hope Abby can get something out of this," McGee said, not making eye contact. He scooped the evidence quickly into the boxes and struggled with them out the door and down to Abby's lab.

"What was that about?" Ziva demanded, looking at Tony with a frown. Tony shrugged and grinned.

"Nothing," DiNozzo replied, returning to sit behind his desk.

"That was not nothing," Ziva grumbled, sitting behind her own desk. "There is no need to be such an enema about it." Tony snorted and choked on his coffee, laughing loudly.

"What? I do not understand," Ziva said, confusion apparent on her face.

"Enigma…Ziva…" He spluttered, still cracking up.

"Enigma? Then what is an enema?" Ziva asked, and Tony laughed still harder, his face turning red.

"What the hell's so funny, DiNozzo?" Gibbs demanded, walking up behind them with a Caff-Pow in hand, but Tony was laughing so hard that he couldn't answer. Gibbs stared at him with an eyebrow raised, next to Ziva who appeared equally confused.

"Gibbs, what is an enema?" Gibbs' face was unreadable as he stopped dead and stared at the two of them.

"I do not want to know," he said, looking at DiNozzo, then turned to Ziva. "And you do not want to know."

As he walked down to Abby's lab, Tony was still laughing behind him, and he smiled to himself.

xxxx

"Gibbs! I'm just starting on this batch, but I've got some good fingerprints here. With any luck, my boys will be able to tell us exactly who killed our vics."

"Good work, Abs," Gibbs said, heading out again. "Come on, McGee." McGee followed hesitantly after his boss, feet plodding.

They got into the elevator, McGee wincing as he anticipated Gibbs stopping it. It didn't happen. They got to the top floor without a word of conversation, Gibbs stepping off without looking back.

It wasn't until later that the conversation McGee knew was coming but wanted to avoid took place, and it happened in one of the more awkward places possible.

"So, McGeek," DiNozzo said, stepping up to the urinal next to Tim's.

"Hey Tony," McGee responded, not looking at the senior agent.

"You just happen to read the Dover newspaper, huh?"

"Yeah," Tim responded shortly, zipping up his fly.

"Dover, where they have a tech opening in their anti-terrorism unit." DiNozzo stepped in front of the younger man, his stance unthreatening but firm.

"I was just looking into it, okay?" Tim answered finally. "I didn't even apply. I was just thinking about it." For a second, there was an awkward silence, McGee looking at the floor, Tony openly scrutinizing him.

"Is this about me, Probie?" He asked quietly. Tim looked up.

"No." DiNozzo looked at him, uncertainty clear in his eyes.

"You sure about that? 'Cause if you've got a problem with me, I expect you to talk to me about it. Are we clear?"

"We're clear," McGee answered, finally staring Tony in the eye.

"Okay then," DiNozzo said, walking out of the bathroom. McGee washed his hands in silence before following him out.

xxxx

By the next morning, Abby had been able to single out the only set of fingerprints that showed up on almost every piece of evidence, and it wasn't long before she had it traced.

"Gibbs, this guy has no record at all. His fingerprints are only on file because he was an elementary education major at the University of Maryland and he had to be fingerprinted to do his student teaching in the schools." As she spoke, Abby drew up a picture of a smiling man who appeared to be in his mid-forties.

"So we've got his fingerprints on…"

"Both wallets and one cell phone."

"Thanks, Abby," Gibbs said, going back up to the bullpen.

xxxx

"This is our guy? He doesn't look very threatening," McGee said, looking at the picture of the smiling man.

"His name's William Kimball, and he recently left Dover after quitting his job as an elementary school teacher."

"So it sounds like he could fit our timeline for the murders," DiNozzo commented, and Gibbs nodded.

"Seems like."

"Ziva, find out where he is now and everywhere he's lived for the past six months. DiNozzo, I want you to try and track down any links between the victims, figure out how Kimball found out about them and where they were killed. McGee, I want you to find anyone who's talked to Kimball in the past month. I want to know why he quit his job and why he's come here. Let's get this guy."

xxxx

Present

"Hi Tony." DiNozzo tried to turn to look at McGee, but he found it rather challenging given the fragile balance of his current situation.

"Hey Probie. I would turn to look at you, but, you know…" His voice trailed off. Strange, he thought, that he was hallucinating. Even stranger that he didn't really care.

"That's okay, DiNozzo," Tim said, and he was suddenly sitting on the dashboard just above the center console, legs dangling.

"Isn't that uncomfortable?" Tony asked, looking at how scrunched the younger man was beneath the windshield.

"Nah. I don't mind," McGee responded. "After all, I'm not really here."

"Yeah, I guess so," DiNozzo said, looking at Tim thoughtfully. "I wonder why I'm hallucinating you, Probie, of all people. Why couldn't it be someone like Jessica Alba? My talents are wasted on you, McGeek." McGee looked mildly offended.

"You're in charge here, Tony. If I'm annoying you so much, you could just turn me into someone else."

"No, that's okay. You tell anybody this and I'll kill you, but I actually don't mind your company. At least, not too much." McGee raised an eyebrow.

"I used to like yours, Tony." DiNozzo coughed wetly, looking at McGee in surprise and hurt.

"What happened, McGoo? I know I can be kind of irritating sometimes, but you used to…I don't know, I thought we were kind of friends." Tony blushed and looked down, feeling awkward for so openly conveying his feelings, then laughing.

"What's so funny?" McGee asked, looking at DiNozzo in confusion.

"I just think it's kind of hilarious that I'm embarrassed about telling you things. I mean, you're kind of, well, me, so you already know what I know…This is damn confusing and my head already hurts." He coughed thickly again, trying to suppress a shiver.

"You're such a whiner, Tony," McGee muttered, but his voice was suddenly that of Anthony DiNozzo, Sr. Tony looked up, stunned.

"What did you just say, Elf Lord?" He demanded, and McGee looked confused.

"What?"

"Never mind. I just thought…" A pang of agony shot through DiNozzo's head, worse than any he'd experienced before, and he groaned.

"DiNozzo? Tony?" McGee asked, worry evident.

"So you do care, McGeek."

"Not wanting to be around you all the time doesn't mean I want you to die, Tony." Tony blinked blearily up at Tim, who was swinging his legs back and forth. Another coughing fit, and his vision started to darken around the edges.

"Might be too late for that, Probie," he managed, then sank helplessly into the darkness.

xxxx

A/N (again): Thanks so much for the continuing reviews and alerts and all that…


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks again for all the great reviews…keep them coming!

xxxx

Four Days Ago:

"William Kimball," Gibbs said as McGee pulled the image of the smiling teacher up on the board. "Tell me what you got."

"Kimball has lived in Dover, Delaware, for the past six years, moved about a month ago. Since then, he's been mostly staying in hotels scattered between here and Dover, including a stop in Westminster," Ziva said, images of hotel ledgers and credit card bills popping up next to the picture.

"I talked to some of his fellow teachers from the elementary school where he taught; apparently, he started acting strangely about six weeks ago, started seeming distracted and distant. He was actually close to being fired anyway when he quit his job. According to his coworkers, he had few friends and wasn't very well liked. Big ego," McGee said, shooting a look to Tony as he said the last bit. Tony grinned at him, flashing his white-toothed smile.

"So he has an ego problem, but something happened six weeks ago that changed him," Ziva mused, and Gibbs took a sip of his coffee.

"DiNozzo?"

"Yeah boss, I think I can help with that," Tony answered, clicking a button. A picture of a smiling young woman came up on screen. "This is Anna Kimball, youngest sister of our suspect, lived in DC. Six weeks ago, she OD'd on heroin with a group of her friends. She might have had a chance if her friends hadn't completely freaked, leaving her abandoned in a rundown building and calling 911 a few hours later. She was found barely alive and died en route to the hospital."

"So he went crazy after his sister died and started killing other druggies?" Ziva asked.

"But why go after the druggies and not the dealers?" McGee questioned, one eyebrow raised. "His sister was a user."

"Maybe he didn't really like his sister," Tony suggested. "Maybe he was pissed off at her for getting herself killed."

"Or he just doesn't discriminate," Gibbs said. "I think that regardless of why, we have more than enough to bring this guy in."

"Motive, time, fingerprints…" Tony said, nodding in agreement. "Do we know where he is?" McGee was tapping into his computer, drawing up Kimball's credit card record, but the last place there was record of him staying was in Westminster.

"He was here, though," Ziva said, motioning to the pictures of the mutilated body they'd found.

"He could have used a different credit card, or paid in cash, or he could even be staying with a friend or family member," McGee offered.

"I've got a BOLO out on his car," DiNozzo said, hanging up the phone, and Gibbs nodded.

"The sooner we can figure out where this guy is, the better."

xxxx

Present

DiNozzo came to blearily, blinking in the darkness. McGee's worried face was startlingly close to his.

"Probie!" Tony gasped before breaking into a coughing fit.

"Hey, jeesh, take it easy, Tony," McGee said, staring at him in obvious concern. Tony managed to stop coughing and wiped a shaky hand across his mouth. Staring up at his partner, he was surprised when Tim's face started to blur and shift before him.

"McGee?" Tony asked quietly, hesitantly, but it wasn't McGee anymore.

"Hey DiNozzo." Tony blinked once, twice, trying to clear his vision. What the hell…

"Coach? Coop? What are you doing here?" He gasped, breathing thickly. The white-haired man chuckled, a low rumbling laugh, and reached up to adjust his dark rimmed glasses.

"Wanted to see what you've been up to since you twisted your knee to hell," he answered. DiNozzo shook his head, utterly confused. He hadn't thought about football in ages, let alone his old coach. Why was he seeing him now?

"Looks like you managed to screw this up too, DiNozzo," the man murmured, clicking his tongue. Tony groaned loudly.

"For once, can't I hallucinate someone who isn't a complete asshole?" He muttered, and was unsurprised when his coach shot him a look.

"Whining about it isn't going to change it, Tony," he said, and for a minute, DiNozzo remembered that this man had been sort of like a father to him, back in the days of his football career, before that one play that changed his entire life. "Listen son, I know you're a fighter. Have been long as I've known you. But you're letting go to early on this one, DiNozzo. You've got to hang on, okay? Gibbs will come for you, you just have to wait." Tony snorted.

"I don't think he's gonna be able to get me out of this one," he muttered, and his coach sighed.

"Yes he is, DiNozzo. He's coming." Tony took a deep breath, wincing at the pain that flared in his chest.

"How the hell do you know?" He whispered, suddenly feeling very alone and very scared.

"Because you do, Tony." DiNozzo fell silent for a second, pondering over that.

"Yeah, I guess I do know that, huh," he said quietly, the words coming with more difficulty than they had before.

Coop settled into the passenger seat and adjusted his glasses again.

"You know Tony, I always knew you weren't going to be a football player." DiNozzo blinked in surprise.

"What?" He asked, unable to say anything more. He had been going to go pro. It had only been a matter of time before football became his life. If there hadn't been the injury, the sudden, blinding pain and grinding cartilage, he would've been there.

"I know what you're thinking, DiNozzo, but you're wrong. It wasn't that you didn't have the guts for it, 'cause you sure as hell did. There's just always been something about you, son, something that begged for more than a sports career. Something that wanted to make a difference." Tony blinked back tears.

"So you don't think I screwed this up, Coach?" He muttered thickly. Coop laughed.

"Hell no! I think you've made yourself into a damn fine man, damn fine. You're doing better than some of those blockheads who got into the NFL, DiNozzo. You're saving lives. You're _making a difference_." Tony grinned even as a few tears fell down his cheeks.

"Thanks, Coach," he whispered, feeling the cough bubbling in his throat again. Cursing inwardly, he hacked loudly. Coop looked at him in concern.

"Shit DiNozzo," he muttered, and for a moment, Tony wondered why. Then he looked down, groaned at the sight of the dark spatters.

Blood.


	5. Chapter 5

Three days ago:

"Gibbs, one of Kimball's former roommates lives in D.C.," Ziva said, staring at her computer screen. "He could be staying with him." Gibbs looked unconvinced.

"Anyone else? Anyone find anything?" He demanded, staring at DiNozzo and McGee with an intense gaze.

"Umm, not yet Boss, but we're working on it," McGee stuttered, and Tony shook his head and flashed a grin at Gibbs. Gibbs growled in frustration.

"Why the hell isn't anything coming up on this guy?" He grumbled, looking, once again, through the various paperwork they had. He stood up, prowling around the bullpen and glaring. It was rare that they were unable to find a suspect, and it was clearly grating on his nerves. DiNozzo was the only one who seemed to be unconcerned, grinning as readily and joking as often as he always did. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Damn it, DiNozzo, wipe that damn smile off your face and get your ass in gear. I hear one more movie reference before I get a lead on this case, and you're going to be looking for a new job, you understand?"

"Yeah Boss, I get it," Tony said quietly, sitting passively behind his computer. An awkward silence settled over the bullpen, and Gibbs realized that he may have been a bit harsh on his senior agent.

The phone ringing surprised everyone. It sat on McGee's desk and shrilled, and for a moment no one moved.

"Pick it up, Probie," Tony said finally, staring at Tim with an incredulous expression.

"This is McGee, NCIS," McGee said. "What? Well-Yeah. Yeah. Uh-huh. Yeah, I'll tell him. Okay. Thanks. Bye." He hung up the phone and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I think we've got our lead," he said, and it seemed like everyone took a deep breath. Tension noticeably dissolved.

"Let's hear it, McGee," Gibbs said, and Tim nodded, clearing his throat.

"Metro police just got a call from a woman who claims she went on a date with William Kimball last night, and, get this, that he was making inferences that he'd killed people. She freaked and called the cops and they called us." Gibbs stood up.

"DiNozzo, Ziva, I want you to go pick her up. We've got to talk with this woman."

xxxx

Francis Jones had a terrible dating history. She'd been briefly engaged to a married man, gone steady with someone who had turned out to be a cross dresser, and now, apparently, she'd gone on a blind date with a serial killer. And now she felt it necessary to share every detail about her sketchy past with the agents driving the car.

As Francis chattered away in the back seat, Tony turned to look at Ziva, nearly laughing when he noticed her tight grip on the steering wheel turning her knuckles white. He flashed Ziva a grin and turned in his seat to look at Francis.

She was clearly anxious ,biting at her fingernails with wide eyes even as she continued to talk.

"Hey, Francis?" Tony asked jovially. Francis stopped talking and stared at him.

"It's gonna be okay. You should try and relax." Francis nodded, taking a deep breath for the first time in minutes. Satisfied, Tony turned around, only to cringe when she immediately started talking again. Ziva growled low in her throat, and DiNozzo chuckled to himself.

Ten minutes and one very pissed off Mossad agent later, and Francis Jones was sitting in a room, staring across the table at Gibbs.

"I just, I don't understand how this happens to me, Agent Gibbs. I mean, how can one person be so unlucky?" She asked, distraught.

"You're telling me," Gibbs muttered under his breath before addressing the woman in front of him.

"So do you want to tell me what happened last night, Ms. Jones?" He asked, staring intently at her. She blushed furiously, looking down at the table.

"There was this guy, see, he bought me a drink at a bar last week, then asked if I wanted to go on a date with him. I didn't really know him and I should have known better, but my judgement has never been very good when it comes to men and he had these beautiful eyes that were just absolutely captivating and-" Gibbs cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow, and Francis blushed again before continuing.

"Right. Sorry. Anyway, we went out to dinner last night and things were going well, I suppose, you know, small talk and all that. He was really quite charming. Anyway, I asked what he liked to do, in his spare time, and, well…" Her voice trailed off and she looked down at her hands.

"Francis? This is important. I need to know what he said," Gibbs said, more gently than he normally addressed people. Francis took a deep breath.

"He never outright said it, but he implied that he…that he liked to…torture people. He said, "I like to make those damn junkies pay for what they do to society. " I was a bit taken aback by that and asked what he meant, but all he said was that the best tool is…is a fillet knife because it allows for smaller wounds and more time to…to make them pay." Gibbs sat back in his chair, contemplating what he'd been told. Sounded like Kimball was definitely their guy and that he was unrepentant.

"Francis, this is important. What bar did you meet him at, and where did you eat dinner last night?"

"It was Mickey's Pub, over on 16th, and last night we ate at that little Thai place, Chao Praya, on Hamilton." Gibbs nodded, knowing that behind the glass, Tony would already be making a move on those places.

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Jones. Unless there's anything you'd like to add, Officer David will escort you home." Francis didn't move from her chair. "Ms. Jones?"

"There is something else, Agent Gibbs," she said, still not moving. "He…He said that he's been busy lately. That he's been…working on a project for a few days. But the way he said it, Agent Gibbs…I think he may be "working" on…people." She turned frightened eyes to the former gunny sergeant, who had raised his eyebrows but shown no other trace of emotion.

"Thank you Ms. Jones. Officer David will take you home now." Francis nodded, getting up from the chair and walking slowly out the door.

Gibbs took a deep breath. Things had changed. Now they had a time limit.

xxxx

Present

DiNozzo hadn't felt this poorly in a long time. The hacking was almost constant now, and he was unable to curl in on himself like he wanted to, was forced to stay stationary. Every cough brought with it the taste of coppery warmth that made him want to vomit, but he managed to quell the nausea.

That wasn't the only thing that made the situation less than optimal. He'd been seeing people, cycling through co-workers, old friends, enemies, forgotten acquaintances…It all took place at an overwhelming pace, and he wasn't sure he could handle much more.

Ziva had been last, telling him to "get his hairy butt" in line and hang on; before that, Abby had helpfully offered Burt the Hippo as a way to keep himself occupied. Jeanne had told him that he was getting what he deserved, Jenny had blamed him for her death, as had Kate, and his father had informed him that he was in all likelihood going to die and that it served him right.

He silently cursed his subconscious for refusing to let him rest peacefully, even as he wondered who would be showing up next.

It was Gibbs. The silver haired man sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the rickety old bridge with a sigh.

"Beautiful up here, isn't it?" He asked conversationally, and DiNozzo frowned.

"Beautiful? I don't know about that, Gibbs," he answered, somewhat confused by his boss's comment.

"I mean, a beautiful place to die, if you're going to," he clarified, and Tony frowned again.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He demanded, and Gibbs finally turned to look at him.

"I mean, if you're giving up and you're going to die, you might as well do it here," he said, and this time the words came out forcefully, between clenched teeth and blazing eyes.

"I'm –I'm not giving up," Tony managed between barking coughs.

"You are, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, a hint of something warm in his tone. "I know what you're thinking, remember? You're doubting me. You're doubting that I'll get here in time."

"Will you, Boss?" DiNozzo gasped.

"Hell yes, Tony. I'm not gonna let your scrawny ass screw up my record. Never lost an undercover agent, don't plan to start now." There was a silence in which Tony couldn't meet Gibbs' eye, and noticed that the older man was openly scrutinizing him.

"What?" He snapped finally, turning to look at Gibbs. The car creaked ominously, shifting slightly.

"You were thinking about running, weren't you?" Gibbs said in a low tone, and DiNozzo blinked.

"What are you talking about, Gibbs?" He spat, frustrated by his boss's vague replies.

"I mean you got on McGee's case about looking into Dover, Tony, but how the hell did _you_ know they had an opening there?" Tony didn't reply and looked down.

"Things have been different, Boss," he murmured quietly. "McGee and ZIva, they look at me differently. And you, Boss. No one sees me as Tony the Senior Agent anymore, they just see me as that guy who screwed up and got someone killed for it. I've been thinking…that maybe it's time I look into a change of pace, you know?" The silence that stretched between them this time was noticeable and awkward.

Finally, Gibbs cleared his throat.

"DiNozzo, I've always been proud of you. You understand me? What happened to Jenny doesn't change that. This doesn't change that. Tony, you're a damned good man, and I'm proud that I've been able to work with you."

"Thanks," Tony muttered thickly, uncertain of how to react and feeling his head pounding. His vision was starting to blacken, again, and Tony vainly tried to keep himself from succumbing to the darkness.

"Stay with me, Tony, come on DiNozzo," Gibbs said, putting a hand on Tony's knee in an effort to keep him there. Of course, he was flickering as badly as Tony's vision, so he was having little effect.

DiNozzo felt like he was falling this time, a freefall into an unknown black, Gibbs' voice echoing in his ears. _Stay with me…always been proud…damned good man…_

Vaguely, Tony wondered if he would ever get out of the blackness that filled his nose and mouth and stole his breath away. His last thought, fluttering away with his consciousness, was _probably not._


	6. Chapter 6

Gibbs stared at the smirking man in the interrogation room and wondered, yet again, how it had come to this. It had seemed simple enough; Kimball had a reputation of bragging about things to anyone willing to listen, a fact only confirmed by Francis' story, and Tony was incredibly skilled at getting people to spill their guts anyway.

So it had seemed logical to send him undercover. Get Kimball to tell where he was keeping the two men he had abducted and organize a rescue. Simple, logical.

Of course, nothing ever went the way it should. Gibbs remembered getting the phone call from Tony after he'd gone to the bar Francis had mentioned; a quick conversation amounting to little more than 'I found him, he squealed, he's taking me there tomorrow night.' Simple, logical.

The next night, Tony had gone into the bar, Gibbs and McGee stationed across the street to monitor Kimball's movements, Ziva outside ready to follow DiNozzo and Kimball. Gibbs watched as Kimball walked into the bar, waiting impatiently for Tony to come out with him.

45 minutes later, Kimball walked out. Alone. Gibbs and Ziva had tackled him as McGee ran inside the bar to find Tony. Even as Gibbs and Ziva hauled Kimball into a car, handcuffed and subdued, McGee had come out of the bar empty-handed.

A whirlwind of action, interrogation and interviews, hours passed…Kimball had simply laughed when he'd heard that DiNozzo had, in fact, been undercover, but had remained adamant that he'd never met up with him a second time, and the bartender had confirmed that Tony had left before Kimball had arrived. Kimball laughed again when Gibbs demanded he be told where the missing men were.

"Lost them like you did your agent, huh?" It had taken all of his self control to walk out of the room without smashing Kimball's face. Which led to now, standing outside the interrogation room with no leads and itching fingers.

"Boss! Something was definitely wrong," McGee said suddenly, coming up to Gibbs.

"Ya think, McGee?" Gibbs spat, and Tim nodded, looking down.

"I checked the security footage," McGee said, and Gibbs looked at him. "Tony got into his car with someone else…but Boss, it looks like he may have been drugged." Gibbs' jaw tightened visibly.

"Can you get an ID on whoever was with him?" He barked as they walked into the bullpen.

"No Boss, you can see that his face is hidden pretty much the whole time," McGee answered, pulling the video up. Gibbs felt his stomach churn as he watched DiNozzo, grainy and small, stumble to his car, another man pushing him in and getting in the driver's side.

"Whoever's with him is an amateur," Gibbs stated, replaying the footage again and again. "He seems anxious." Finally turning away from the screen, Gibbs turned to Ziva.

"Ziva, I want a BOLO out on Tony's car."

"Already on it, Gibbs," the dark-haired agent answered, and Gibbs took a deep breath. They would get Tony back. Of course they would.

xxxx

Two hours later, there was a hit on the BOLO and Gibbs had to restrain himself when the man who was responsible for whatever the hell was going on stumbled into the interrogation room. The man blinked, clearly confused and disoriented. Gibbs stormed through the door, slamming a picture of Tony down on the table.

"Who the hell are you and what the hell have you done with my agent?" He bellowed loudly, allowing the fear he was feeling to combine with the hatred that seared through his veins at the sight of the man before him. The man stuttered nervously, licking his lips.

"Answer me!"

"M-Michael Williams," the man answered finally, not making eye contact with the irate agent in front of him. "I-I've never seen this m-man."

"Bullshit," Gibbs said angrily, slamming a fist down on the table. Williams flinched. "You were just found driving his car. Now I'm asking again, _where the hell is my agent?"_ Williams swallowed nervously.

"I-I had to," he stuttered, licking his lips again. "Couldn't get caught."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Gibbs demanded. He needed answers _now_, damn it!

"I h-heard him," Williams whispered. "He was in b-back of the bar. Said something about catching me, about 'bringing him in.' I c-couldn't let him n-narc on me." For a second, Gibbs sat, stunned. This piece of shit junkie had thought that DiNozzo was talking about _him. _What had he done? Williams was clearly coming down from a high, and Gibbs despaired at the thought that he could've done almost anything in his disorientation.

"Where the hell is he, Williams? What did you do to him?"

"I-I drove to the old b-bridge," Williams muttered, hands shaking. "L-left him in m-my c-crap car. Would've pushed him o-off, but I thought someone was c-coming. I ran away." Gibbs abruptly left the room, calling McGee. Tony was clearly in trouble if he hadn't checked in yet, and Gibbs felt some relief that Williams had been out of it enough to come up with some stupid, convoluted plan to get rid of DiNozzo. It had given them time, but he wasn't sure if it was enough…

"McGee? Where are you?" He demanded as the line was answered.

"I'm on my way to Metro, Boss, like you told me."

"Well turn around. We've got him."

xxxx

McGee knew, logically, that Tony would be in bad shape when he found him. It was freezing outside, and even just a walk to the car had found Tim shivering and blowing into his hands, and that was with a coat on.

DiNozzo had been sitting, motionless, in a freezing car, for nearly two days. So yeah, Tim had known that things wouldn't be good. Even knowing that couldn't prepare him for the sight that greeted him upon his arrival at the bridge.

The bridge itself was old, rusting and rickety, clearly abandoned. There was a car, half on and half off the swaying structure, creaking and shifting slightly in the wind, looking nearly as ancient as the bridge. Tony was in that.

Running as fast as he could, Tim reached the car quickly, approaching with more caution as he got to the very side of the vehicle. For a second he forgot how to breathe when he looked inside the passenger seat window.

Tony was completely still, head hanging forward on his chest, eyes shut. Tim couldn't tell if he was breathing or not, and he could see dark splatters on the lime green shirt. McGee swore under his breath, reaching towards the handle and then hesitating.

"No, no no no, Tony," he muttered, afraid of disturbing the gentle balance of the car but desperate to get to the senior agent. "DiNozzo, come on." Holding his breath, McGee carefully lifted the handle. It was iced over and didn't move. Tim swore loudly.

"Damn it! What the hell am I supposed to do?" He rubbed his hands together quickly then placed his warmed hands on the handle, wincing at the cold as he felt the ice beginning to melt. He rubbed them again, blowing frantically on them. Placing his hands once more on the handle, he was startled when he felt the car shift beneath them, and nearly jumped back in surprise. He managed to hold back the reaction, realizing that the sudden movement could easily cause the car to move even more.

Taking a deep breath to reassure himself, McGee once again gingerly touched the handle, relieved when he realized that it was now warmed enough that he could open it. He gently lifted and let out a sigh of relief when it gave, then clenched his jaw as he eased the door open. It crackled as it opened, sending tiny shards of ice to the ground, and Tim was forced to stop as the car again groaned, moving precariously. Finally the door was open, and McGee was able to look inside the car. To his immense relief, he noticed that his friend's chest was moving, albeit painfully and erratically.

"Tony? Hey, Tony, can you hear me?" He asked, leaning as far into the car as he dared. "Tony, come on! Damn it DiNozzo, answer me!" Finally, the older man responded, cloudy eyes blinking blearily open. Tony mumbled something under his breath and made a weak motion with his hand, and his eyes slid shut again.

"Oh no you don't," McGee said loudly, wishing he could lean in and shake the senior agent. He was relieved when a slit of green appeared.

"Don' wanna talk t' you again," Tony slurred, and McGee frowned. Again? It didn't take him long to realize that DiNozzo must have been hallucinating. He could hear the wheeze in Tony's chest, the way his breathing was harsh and painful. Shit.

"Listen Tony, I'm here. This is real. I'm actually here," Tim said reassuringly, but Tony shook his head.

"Jus' go away," he murmured.

"DiNozzo! You listen to me, right now. Don't you dare give up! I am _right here_, and you sure as hell are going to stay with me! Gibbs is on his way, Tony. You gotta hang on, ten more minutes, that's it. You hear me? Ten minutes." Tony chuckled, a low rumble that soon deteriorated into a barking cough, and McGee winced.

"Ever'body says that," DiNozzo mumbled, looking at McGee with confused, pain filled eyes. "Ever'body says Gibbs is coming, but I haven't seen 'im yet. Not stupid." His voice trailed off and McGee realized with a pang that he was once again slipping into unconsciousness. Inspiration hit suddenly.

"I'm gonna call him, okay Tony? I'm going to put him on speaker phone so that you can hear him." With fumbling fingers, Tim managed to dial Gibbs.

"Gibbs." The familiar voice barked over the phone and McGee sighed in relief. "You find him?" McGee glanced at the senior agent, still quietly mumbling to himself, barely hanging onto consciousness.

"Yeah, I've got him Boss, but he's in bad shape. He's been hallucinating and…" Tim trailed off, unsure how to tell Gibbs what he had to say. "He's…he's not sure you're coming, Boss. I told him I'd put you on speaker phone. Damn it Gibbs, he's not doing too good, and I don't know that I can get him out."

There was silence for a minute before the former Marine's voice crackled over the line.

"Hang tight, Tim. Let me talk to DiNozzo." McGee quickly complied, turning the speaker phone on and holding it up inside the car.

"Tony? DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, his tone a curious mixture of harshness and comfort. Tony blinked in confusion, eyes rolling as he struggled to focus on the voice.

"Boss?" He croaked, lightly coughing after he said it.

"Yeah Tony, it's me," Gibbs confirmed, and DiNozzo managed a half smile.

"Knew it," he whispered, and Tim couldn't keep his hands from trembling.

"I'm coming, you got that? I'll be there in seven minutes, DiNozzo, and I fully expect to see you awake and waiting for me. You understand?" DiNozzo swallowed painfully and coughed.

"I-I hear you," he stuttered breathlessly. McGee picked the phone up and put it to his ear again.

"McGee, keep him talking if you can. We're almost there. Just hang on." Tim nodded, taking a deep breath.

"You gotta hurry, Gibbs. I don't know how much time he's got left," he said, unable to stop the tremble in his voice.

"We're going as fast as we can, McGee, probably faster," Gibbs replied, his tone terse. McGee could tell how worried he was just from the timbre of his voice and wished he could say something to allay his boss's fears. Unfortunately, his own fears were just as real, maybe more so than Gibbs'.

"McGee," Tony whispered, voice low and strained.

"Yeah, yeah, DiNozzo," Tim answered, crouching down to see into the car. "Don't try to talk."

"Mc-McGee," Tony repeated, struggling visibly. "He's…he's c-coming."

"Yeah, he is, Tony," McGee assured, feeling a sudden sense of dread. Tony's words sounded worryingly final.

"C-coming," Tony said once more, and then three things happened very quickly. Tony was wracked by a fit of coughing worse than any he had experienced, face turning red and body arching as he struggled for air before collapsing, a gust of wind rattled the tiny car, and Tim McGee instinctively reached out to his partner…before watching in horror as the car finally tumbled off the bridge, Tony's unconscious form inside, and splashed into the river.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony was falling. It was a long drop, he observed, though somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that it probably seemed longer to him than it did to McGee.

The water, when it came, came suddenly, filling his mouth and nose and forcing his eyes shut. It was freezing, stealing away the last bit of air that had been in DiNozzo's ravaged lungs, and it was only seconds before Tony felt the fight leaving him, felt his mind start to wander.

His last thoughts as his consciousness floated away with the water swirling around him was that Gibbs had failed. That even though everyone had said he would come for him, that he _cared_ about him, it didn't really matter in the long run. Because Gibbs had left him.

xxxx

Gibbs hung up with McGee after telling him Tony's location, watched as Ziva ran to call search and rescue, and turned back to the man in front of him.

"I want to know what you gave him," he hissed, and Williams visibly shrank back.

"What do you m-mean?" He asked, stumbling over the words as Gibbs glared at him, then stood up, grabbing the man by his collar and shoving him against the wall.

"I mean I know that you drugged my agent! Now what the hell was it?" Williams was trembling and started crying as Gibbs held him. Gibbs had to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

"You've got three seconds," he growled between gritted teeth, and Williams let out a yelp.

"Okay! It was amobarbital, okay? Just a sedative, that's all," he sobbed. Gibbs let him down and stalked out of the room.

"Ducky!" He barked, turning to leave the interrogation room. He was halfway out the door when he heard someone say his name. Kimball. Gibbs paused then moved to step out, but Kimball spoke up again.

"Agent Gibbs. They're in a warehouse on Columbia Street and 181st. If you hurry, you might be able to save them." Kimball had a smirk on his face, a look so self-pleased that Gibbs had the sudden urge to wipe it off his face. Literally, if he had to. He took one threatening step towards Kimball when a hand grasped his shoulder.

"Gibbs. Let it go," Vance said, staring intently at Gibbs with raised eyebrows. The indecision must have been clear on Gibbs' face, as the choice between saving his agent and saving civilian lives a difficult one.

"I got the victims. You go get DiNozzo." Gibbs nodded once, the unspoken thanks evident in the way his shoulders sagged in relief as he once more turned to go.

"And Gibbs? You bring him back in one piece," Vance called after him.

"Will do," Gibbs responded confidently. He stepped into the bullpen and was immediately accosted by Ducky.

"Jethro, what have-"

"We know where he is," Gibbs interrupted, and Ducky sighed in relief. "Bastard gave him amobarbital." The ME's look of concern abruptly returned.

"Oh dear, amobarbital? We will need to be quick, Jethro." Gibbs looked at him, one eyebrow raised in question. "Amobarbital can lower the body's temperature, slow the pulse," Ducky explained slowly. "If Tony is out in this weather…" His voice trailed off and Gibbs nodded.

"We have to go. _Now." _Ziva, Gibbs, and Ducky piled into a car, Gibbs calling Search+ Rescue from the car. The phone rang and he answered tersely. McGee's strained voice came across all too clearly, and Gibbs felt an emotion that he hadn't experienced for some time as he heard his probie explain that Tony was in bad shape. His stomach sank as McGee hesitated, then added that Tony wasn't sure Gibbs was coming. Gibbs was silent a minute, knuckles white as he increased the speed of the car even further.

"Hang tight, Tim. Let me talk to DiNozzo." He could feel Ziva and Ducky looking at him as he spoke, but ignored them as he ordered his senior agent to hold on. Hanging up, he stared straight ahead, refusing to look at either of his friends.

"Is he…?" Ziva asked tentatively, and Gibbs straightened.

"No. And he isn't going to," he answered roughly. He glanced at the dash, quickly calculated how far he had to go, and pushed on the pedal again. Five minutes. Just five more minutes…

The phone rang again.

"Gibbs," Gibbs barked, putting it to his ear.

"Gibbs! Holy shit, Gibbs, the car fell, Tony's in the water, oh shit, I gotta get him out, Gibbs, I gotta get him out…" Tim's voice was high and tense and he was talking so quickly that Gibbs almost couldn't understand him. Almost.

"Tim. Take a breath. What happened?" Gibbs forced his voice to remain steady. McGee was clearly panicking.

"The car fell, Gibbs. It was close to falling anyway and then he started coughing and the damn wind…Gibbs, I have to go after him or he's going to die. I'll call you when I get out, okay?" Gibbs closed his eyes as McGee continued to ramble, swallowing the lump that rose in his throat.

"McGee, listen to me. You can't go in after him, okay? You go in, you're dead, and we've got two agents down. That water's freezing and we can't risk you." There was stunned silence.

"Gibbs, did you hear me? _Tony's_ in the river. He's going to die!" Gibbs could hear the hysteria rising in the younger man's voice.

"You can't, McGee. That's an order, you hear me? You go in alone, you're out of a job." Damn he felt like a bastard. But he had to get through to his agent…

"But Gibbs…" It was spoken softly, but Gibbs could hear the anguish in McGee's resigned tone. It took him a second to realize that Tim was crying.

"We're going to be there any minute, McGee. You just wait, okay? You can tell us where-" he had to pause to take a deep breath "-where he went in. Okay?"

"O-Okay," McGee whimpered, and Gibbs could feel the emotion rising in his own throat. Ziva and Ducky had apparently surmised what was going on, as Ducky looked horrified, and Ziva was staring at him with tear-bright eyes.

"We're going to get him out. You got that, Probie?" Gibbs demanded, trying to infuse authority into his tone and failing miserably.

And then they were there.

xxxx

McGee was pacing next to the river when they pulled in, hands clenching at his hair. He looked terrible, eyes red-rimmed and swollen.

"Gibbs, you're here, I've gotta go get him," Tim said as soon as Gibbs got out of the car. Gibbs grasped the younger man's shoulders in a rare show of support and looked him straight in the eye.

"Listen to me, McGee. It's still too dangerous for you, okay? The rescue team should be here in 5, max, and they're going to get Tony out of the water, and they're going to take him to the hospital, and he's going to be fine. You hear me?" Gibbs' words sounded hollow in his own ears, but he had to pretend that things might be okay, and he had to stay strong for McGee. Tim's reaction was not what he expected.

"You son of a bitch," McGee spat, backing away from the team leader. "Tony saved your ass by diving after not just you, but you _and _a civilian, when _you_ messed up, and you're not going to return the favor? How the hell can you live with yourself, knowing that you're just _standing _ here, when your agent, the best damn agent in the agency, is _dying?_ You stupid bastard." Gibbs felt his jaw tightening and squared his shoulders as he looked at the younger man in front of him. McGee was shaking visibly, pale, and he looked like he had aged ten years in the past half hour. But his eyes were blazing.

"McGee," Gibbs barked, the reprimand clear in his tone. "You think this is easy for me? Shit, don't you think I _want_ to be in the damn water? It's too dangerous, McGee, for all of us! The currents in this river are dangerously strong, it's freezing, and we don't know where to look. Damn it, Tim, it's too damn dangerous," he finished, his voice cracking. McGee nodded and sat down, putting his head between his knees, shoulders shaking with sobs. Ziva and Ducky were both staring, open mouthed, at the confrontation.

"Aww, Tim," Gibbs muttered, kneeling next to the sobbing man and patting his back. He couldn't keep himself from looking at the river, from feeling the absolute dread that came with being so helpless.

The rescue team made good time, but in his heart, Gibbs knew that it wouldn't be enough. Even Ducky's reassurance that DiNozzo had a better chance due to the freezing temperature of the water wasn't enough to allay the dread and the fears that were coursing through his veins. He had failed Tony.

As he watched the team send in divers, as he watched a still body being pulled up into a boat, Gibbs paced anxiously, his actions mirrored in various degrees by his team members. And as he caught his first glimpse of Tony, chest being compressed by a medic as they brought him to shore, face an eerie shade of whitish gray-green, Gibbs realized that he'd found a color that he hated more than blue.

xxxx

A/N: Wow, thanks so much for the reviews for the last chapter! As you can tell, I love a good cliffhanger, but hopefully it won't be long before another update.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry this took a bit, the site won't let me update, so this is coming to you from a friend in a different time zone…might take a while before I can get another one out.

xxxx

Gibbs held on with a grip that was surprisingly shaky, held on as if he could keep his senior agent with him through the force of his grasp alone. Tony's fingers were pale, bloodless, the nails blue, jerking slightly in time to the chest compressions being feverishly performed on him by one of the paramedics. The other medic stood at his head, rhythmically squeezing a bag over DiNozzo's mouth, forcing oxygen into still lungs.

It was a strange rhythm, Gibbs noted absently, pumping and squeezing and muttered pleas and barked statistics. He remained silent, though, couldn't bring himself to actually vocalize any of his thoughts, afraid that he would open his mouth and lose all semblance of control. Because it was his fault, after all, that his senior agent and pseudo-son was lying here, for all intents and purposes, dead.

_Not dead until he's warm and dead, not dead until he's warm and dead…_They'd said it to him as they hustled Tony's not-dead body into the ambulance, and it became a chant, a prayer, as Gibbs clutched the still hand and willed life into his friend.

They'd already shocked him three times; despite his appearance, they assured Gibbs that there was a chance that he was still alive, that once they raised his temperature (72 degrees, how the hell did he get so cold?) that there could still be a chance. Not that it was a very good chance. Still, DiNozzo had beaten the odds before, and he could do it again. Damn it, he _would_ do it again.

Gibbs risked a glance at the paramedic performing CPR, noticing that the man had a think trickle of sweat running down his forehead. He wondered that the medic could be so warm when Tony was so cold… His gaze shifted to the other man, squeezing the bag and checking the IV that was running warmed saline into DiNozzo's veins, occasionally listening to Tony's chest with his stethoscope. Gibbs' wandering gaze ended with Tony's hand, the pale white and blue appendage that sat limply in his hand and that seemed so detached from the vivacious man Gibbs knew.

It took a good bit more courage to look at Tony's face. The skin was white, lips blue where they were visible around the tube forced down his throat. His eyes were closed, lashes standing out in stark contrast to the white skin around them. The hair on DiNozzo's forehead was plastered down and wet, sticking up haphazardly in random places. Gibbs couldn't look for more than a few seconds, dropping his eyes to the floor quickly, disturbed more than he cared to admit.

"I did this," Gibbs whispered to himself, the guilt washing over him in a nearly unbearable wave. He hadn't had the balls to jump in after his agent, had stood on shore wasting valuable time, waiting for the damn rescue crew, while Tony died. He'd failed him, hadn't had his six, after so many years and situations and after building the most familial relationship he'd had since Shannon…he'd failed Tony.

"Sir, we're about a minute out. We've got a team standing by, he'll be gone pretty quickly," the medic with the oxygen bag said, and Gibbs nodded numbly, squeezing Tony's hand subconsciously. The medic looked at him a second, pity clear in his eyes, and for an irrational moment, Gibbs felt angry.

"And sir, I don't know exactly what happened, but I'm certain that this wasn't your fault," the medic continued, looking down as if worried he'd crossed a line. Gibbs hesitated then nodded again, not taking his eyes from his senior agent's limp hand.

The ambulance pulled in, and as promised, Tony was gone nearly before Gibbs had even registered that they'd stopped. Stepping out, Gibbs took a single faltering step before being wrapped in a warm embrace.

"Oh Gibbs," Abby whispered into his shoulder, and then Ducky and Ziva and McGee, and even Palmer were there, silent as they took in Gibbs' solemn expression and Abby's shaking shoulders.

"Jethro?" Ducky asked tentatively as Abby stepped away, wiping away her tears and smearing her mascara.

Gibbs shrugged, trying to keep his emotions at bay. "No change." And that was all that needed to be said, really, because they all knew what Tony had looked like coming out of the water, pale and still and lifeless and _dead_. McGee looked absolutely stunned, eyes wide, mouth hanging open as he gasped and suddenly started panting. Palmer directed him towards the ground, pushed his head between his legs, but he did it all dazedly, acting on pure instinct. Even Ziva looked distinctly unsettled, reaching a shaky hand to her forehead, muttering something under her breath in Hebrew. A prayer, maybe. Abby was sobbing again, face buried in her hands as Ducky absently rubbed her back while soothing her with some incoherent mumblings.

Gibbs looked guiltily at his friends, at his _family_, realized suddenly and certainly that this tension was his fault. That Tony was lying on a table, dead but not-dead, because of him, closer to death than any of them had ever come, because of _him_. The tension snapped and suddenly Gibbs had to get out, couldn't breathe, had to leave the crying and the mourning and get air, had to do something, _anything_ to forget where he was and why and what was lying beyond the double doors…

Ducky watched him walk away with a pang of sadness, closing his eyes when he heard the yell of frustration and agony, trying not to hear the sound of flesh hitting brick. When Gibbs reappeared, red-eyed and knuckles bloody, Ducky cleaned the wounds in silence, bandaged the spilling appendages, and wished that he could help with the deeper wounds that he couldn't see.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks a lot for the reviews for the last chapter!

xxxx

McGee idly wondered how long you could try to warm someone up before they were officially dead. Because when your friend and partner had been wheeled away from you with no color and no breath and no pulse a full _two hours ago_, you started to wonder.

Abby had been exhausted and trembling and Gibbs had managed to send her home with Palmer, refusing to take no for an answer. Ducky had managed to talk his way back into the trauma room and they hadn't seen him for over an hour. McGee wasn't sure if that was good or not, because in this case, no news was not good news. It was strange, the feeling that Tony was already dead when he was taken in, that instead of waiting to see if the worst had happened, the worst had already happened. It felt like waiting for an unlikely miracle, like there was absolutely no hope left in the situation. It was not a good feeling.

Ziva had finally fallen asleep, head tilted back against the stark hospital wall, mouth slightly open. Gibbs had pulled another disappearing act, silently slipping away, now nowhere to be seen. Which left McGee, sitting alone in an uncomfortable hospital chair with nothing to do except wonder about Tony, feel guilty about Tony, and feel irrationally angry at Gibbs.

"Here, Tim," Gibbs said, and McGee jumped. Gibbs had two cups of coffee in hand, one extended towards the younger man. Tim accepted it with a nod of thanks, unwilling to say anything more. He lifted the cup to his lips then set it down without drinking any. Gibbs sat down next to him and let the silence grow. McGee didn't look at him, staring at the coffee in hand.

"McGee. How you holding up?" Gibbs asked, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. Tim didn't respond, shrugging his shoulders uncertainly. Gibbs took a deep breath. "Listen Tim, I know you're pissed at me. Hell, I'm pissed at myself. But he's going to be okay."

"How do you know that, Gibbs? You can't know that. And I know that I shouldn't be mad at you, I know that you probably saved my ass out there, and I know it wasn't your fault he was there in the first place, but I'm _pissed_ at you. I-I want to hit you or-or- I don't even know, Boss. I just-I felt so _helpless_ standing by that river and I feel so damn helpless here and I can't _do_ anything. It-it just-damn it, it sucks!" McGee cried, unable to rein in his emotions any longer. Ziva jumped, blinking at them in confusion.

"Tony?" She gasped, and Gibbs shook his head.

"Nothing yet," he said quietly, and Ziva looked down, gritting her teeth. She leaned her head wearily back against the wall. Gibbs turned back to McGee.

"I know, Tim," he said softly, and then Tim started crying, shoulders shaking, and Gibbs once again found himself comforting the younger man.

"I'm sorry Gibbs," McGee sobbed brokenly, breath hitching. "I should've kept him on that bridge. I shouldn't have let him fall. And it's not your fault, Gibbs, it isn't your fault." Gibbs rubbed a soothing hand over the younger man's back.

"This was not your fault, Tim, this was not your fault." He couldn't bring himself to pardon his own actions, but he sure as hell wasn't going to allow his probie to burden himself with unnecessary guilt. A few minutes later, they were all back to sitting, waiting, twiddling thumbs.

Ducky's entrance was so quiet that none of them even noticed until he cleared his throat. McGee looked up at him, saw the man's reddened eyes and dejected posture, and immediately felt himself grow lightheaded.

"No, no no, hell no," he murmured, letting his head fall forward.

"We don't know anything yet," Gibbs snapped, staring at Ducky. "Duck? What the hell's going on?" Ducky managed a wan smile.

"Jethro, we've managed to get his core temperature up to nearly normal," the elderly ME said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

"I hear a big 'but' coming," Gibbs said, his tone cold. Ducky sighed and put his glasses back on.

"But we haven't managed to bring him back yet," he said finally, his quiet voice wavering slightly. Ziva let out a small gasp and shook her head as if unable to believe what she was hearing. McGee swore and stood up abruptly.

"But he's not dead right? He's still got a chance? Damn it, he's gonna make it, right?" Gibbs stood up and put a firm hand on Tim's shoulder.

"Sit down, McGee," he said, pressing the younger man down. He turned back to Ducky, his expression clearly mirroring the questions Tim had spewed.

"I-I don't know, Jethro," he admitted quietly, and Gibbs shut his eyes.

"How much time, Duck?" He whispered, and Ducky shook his head.

"I'm not certain, Jethro, but it-it won't be long now," he answered quietly, and Gibbs ran a shaking hand through his hair. McGee stood up suddenly and lurched to the nearest trashcan, retching violently into it. Ducky absently moved to help him, but Tim waved him off, standing unsteadily and wiping a hand across his mouth. Ziva stood and moved behind Gibbs and McGee, silently offering support to both of them. Eventually, Ducky joined Gibbs, placing his hand on the younger man's shoulder, effectively completing the wall they had formed.

They took what comfort they could from the presence of the others, knowing that in a matter of minutes, they would find out if their friend had made it. If their lives would be changed forever.

They were still standing like that when the doctor came out to talk to them.

xxxx

A/N (again): First off, just wanted to apologize because I know not a lot happened in this chapter, but there should be a bit more going on in the next one. And I am LOVING the new McGee/Tony relationship on NCIS! That's one thing that really impresses me about the show, that they seem to evolve the characters and respond well to fan feedback…anyways, thanks for reading and taking the time to review.


	10. Chapter 10

Gibbs tiredly rubbed a hand over his face, gazing intently at the still form in front of him, if only to convince himself that the man was real and not a figment of his desperate imagination. He tried to avoid looking at the myriad of equipment that surrounded the still figure, tried to avoid the tubes for urine and oxygen and food and medication, tried not to hear the rhythmic _click-whoosh_ of the ventilator, tried to focus on the mostly steady beep of the heart monitor.

Tony was alive. Gibbs found himself occasionally reaching a hand out and cautiously touching DiNozzo's, taking comfort in the reassuring warmth he felt there, so different from the chilling lifelessness he had felt in the ambulance.

It had been a close call. It was _still_ a close call.

"You hang on, DiNozzo. No one dies without my say-so, you hear me?"

He had been certain of what he was about to hear when the doctor emerged from the trauma room, face grim and haggard, and if not for the closeness of his team, he may have staggered under the weight of knowing that he was responsible for what he was going to hear. The first words of the doctor's mouth were that he was alive, against all odds, _again, _and Gibbs felt a swell of pride at his stubborn-ass senior agent.

He had been naïve in hoping that that would be enough. Possible brain damage, not breathing on his own, almost certainly compromised lung functions, ventilator…all of the doctor's slowly uttered words fell on his ears like jumbled pieces of a puzzle, finally clicking into place to form one, startlingly inescapable conclusion: Tony might never come out of this. Tony _most likely_ would never come out of this. His senior agent, vibrant and immature and rowdy and intuitive, was probably going to die in this craphole hospital, would never run into work late again, would never take bets on his interrogation style again, would never throw movie references at him again.

Gibbs was not an easy man to overwhelm. Staring at the still, lifeless man in front of him, Gibbs was overwhelmed.

A sudden noise had Gibbs glancing in the corner, watching as McGee shifted slightly from his tightly curled position on the other uncomfortable armchair in the room, flinging an arm out and opening his mouth to emit a small snore. Gibbs managed a fond half-smile and stood slowly, stretching his arms above his head and popping his neck. He paused a moment, put a gentle hand on his still agent's shoulder as if to reassure them both that neither was going anywhere, then made his way over to Tim. Someone had thoughtfully left a blanket, but it was slipping off of the sleeping agent. Gibbs gently grasped it, tugging it up to rest around McGee's shoulders.

Gibbs shook his head as he looked at his youngest agent. Tim had flat out refused to leave, and had spent most of the night as enthralled with Tony as Gibbs was. They'd sat in silence, watching with a mixture of dread and relief as DiNozzo's chest rose and fell mechanically, allowing the beeping of the heart monitor serve as a form of comfort.

It was nice, he mused, to see the obvious worry and care in McGee's actions, a camaraderie that had been missing from his team for too long. It was less nice, he further mused, that it had taken a disaster of these proportions for it to happen. Gibbs would have had to be blind to have missed the tension that sparked between Tony and Tim the past few days, and he knew that both men had been considering other options. Staring between the two men, no one would have guessed that they'd ever been anything but friends, as close as brothers.

xxxx

Three days later, DiNozzo continued to remain unresponsive, still and quiet and pale, and Gibbs came to the hard realization, aided by Vance, that he would have to return to work. Tony had given no sign of waking, no sign of coming around, and Gibbs knew that it wasn't feasible to have his whole team out of commission for an indeterminate amount of time. As sure as Gibbs was that Tony would wake up, he had no sort of timeline, and the cruel reality was that people were still being killed and families still needed justice.

Walking into Tony's room, still slightly startled by the image of his senior agent's still form even after all these seemingly endless days of worry, he once again noted McGee, this time sitting next to DiNozzo, commentating on the episode of 'Magnum P.I.' that was playing quietly before them. Gibbs quickly realized that Tim was trying to goad Tony into waking up, judging by the comments he was making, poking fun at the dialogue and the plot and even, most unforgivably, Magnum's mustache.

"Hey McGee," Gibbs acknowledged, settling into the open chair. McGee glanced up and gave him a small smile.

"Hi Gibbs. We're, uh, well, I'm watching Magnum P.I.," Tim stuttered, wincing at his words. "Sorry, Boss." A pause, then, "Still no change. But he's going to come around soon, Boss, I can tell." His words rang false and hollow and devastatingly hopeful, and Gibbs nodded, his mouth forming a tight line.

"I'm sure he will, Tim, but in the meantime, you…uh…aw hell, McGee, we need to go back to work." Tim's face fell as if he had just found out that Santa wasn't real for the first time, only to be replaced by a look of smoldering anger that Gibbs recognized from a riverbank next to a bridge not so long ago.

"Gibbs, there is no way in hell I'm leaving him," McGee said firmly. Gibbs sighed.

"Look McGee, it's going to happen, but we don't know how long this is going to take, and we can't just stop working." Tim's voice quavered as he spoke.

"Gibbs," he whispered miserably, staring at the floor. "Gibbs, he doesn't have anyone else." Gibbs nodded.

"I know that, Tim, but you have to go back to work. I can't just allow you to stay." This time, Gibbs was certain he saw McGee's bottom lip tremble the slightest bit, so he switched tactics. "I mean, without a _reason_, you can't just stop going to work." No change in McGee's demeanor, and Gibbs sighed.

"Unless you're _not feeling well_, you need to go to work, Tim," he said, enunciating every syllable. Tim finally looked up, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Okay, Boss, I got it."

xxxx

"Gibbs! Tim McGee just called in sick," Vance barked, and Gibbs shrugged.

"So?"

"So McGee _never _calls in sick!" Gibbs had to hold back the smile that came to his lips.

"Apparently he isn't feeling well, Leon. You got a problem with that?" Vance glared at him. Gibbs stared back.

"Don't think I don't know what this is, Leroy," he muttered, and Gibbs did allow himself a small smirk.

"Of course not," he answered.

The next day, Ziva called in sick. The third day it was Abby, the fourth day Palmer, and the fifth day, even Ducky took a day off. Gibbs managed to see Tony every day after work.

No one said anything, but with each day, hope seemed to grow a bit fainter, seemed to flicker more uncertainly. Tim had come back optimistic, Ziva guardedly cautious, Abby in tears, Palmer subdued, and now, sitting alone in the bullpen long after everyone else had gone home, Ducky came, hat in hand, to talk to Gibbs. And Gibbs knew immediately, by the man's stature and facial expression, that he wasn't going to like what his oldest friend had to say.

"Jethro," Ducky said quietly, sinking into the chair behind Ziva's desk. "Jethro, I know that you've been seeing Anthony every day, so I'm fairly certain that what I'm about to say won't come as a complete shock." Gibbs closed his eyes, swallowing back the anger and helplessness and fear that rose in his throat.

"Anthony is dying, Gibbs," Ducky said, so quietly that Gibbs almost missed hearing it. Not that he really needed to hear it to know what was being said. "He's unable to breathe on his own. His mental capacities are likely compromised. He is wasting away, Jethro." Gibbs looked up at the man in front of him, noting the tears and the gentle hand on his arm.

"Jethro, I think it's time you let Anthony go."

xxxx

"Hey DiNozzo," Gibbs said, stroking his rough, trembling hand through Tony's hair. He cupped his senior agent's cheek, feeling the gaunt features, the stubble that graced the dying man's face.

"Ducky says I should let you go," Gibbs whispered, wishing DiNozzo's eyes would open and he would laugh at that statement. "You always did follow orders, Tony, and he says that I'm being selfish by keeping you here." Gibbs paused, feeling a rare twinge at the corner of his eyes, and quickly wiped them.

"Sometimes a body's just taken too much. Can't handle anymore." He looked at the still man in front of him and pressed on. "It isn't a sign of weakness, DiNozzo, if you can't do this. It's not your fault. So, officially, I'm letting you go." Gibbs rubbed his hand along Tony's arm and patted his agent's shoulder.

"But off the record, you die on me now, and your ass is mine. Maybe I'm being a selfish bastard, but you'd better wake the hell up and spout off some wise-ass comment, or you're never going to hear the end of it. Are we clear?" Gibbs half hoped for some instantaneous sign that his words had had the intended effect, but his friend made no indication of having heard.

"You always have to be stubborn, don't you, Tony?" Gibbs muttered. "Don't you give up, son. I-I need you here. You're all the family I got left, DiNozzo. So don't you give up on me. Not now."

For the first time in a long while, Gibbs felt tears stream down his cheeks, but he didn't care , just pressed his agent's still hand to his forehead and cried.

xxxx

The next day, DiNozzo opened his eyes.

xxxx

A/N: So I was really tempted to kill Tony off (again) but decided not to…Should I continue? I was considering going into DiNozzo's recuperation and all that, but this seems like it could be a good place to stop. I dunno.


	11. Chapter 11

He'd been naïve, Gibbs realized, to think that everything would be okay once Tony opened his eyes. It had been a moment of elation and excitement that had him uncharacteristically close to shouting with joy. Instead, he'd handled it calmly, had quietly and soothingly stroked his hand through DiNozzo's hair, letting his agent know that he was there, watching as the terror in the expressive green eyes dwindled down to calm, watched as eyelids fluttered heavily and finally stayed shut.

After that, he'd assumed, everything would be okay. Everything would be okay because Tony was alive and Tony was Tony, so beyond that, nothing really mattered all that much. He would get better and he would come back to work.

A week later, Gibbs realized just how naïve he had been.

He'd been gone for 15 minutes. Run to the bathroom, grab a fresh coffee, return to his senior agent's bedside. Not enough time for things to get bad, not enough time for DiNozzo's delicate condition to deteriorate even further. And yet, hurrying towards his agent's room, Gibbs could hear the hacking coughs and the gasps for air, and he swallowed convulsively. He knew what he would see when he got into the room.

DiNozzo had started fighting the vent a few days earlier, and the doctors had agreed that it would be best if he started breathing on his own and was able to cough out the crap that had taken up stubborn residence inside his lungs. It was working like a charm. It seemed like Tony hadn't stopped coughing in days.

"Hey, hey, I'm here DiNozzo," Gibbs said, slipping into the room. Tony was hunched forward in the bed, face red and scrunched with pain. A line of red-tinged saliva dripped from his mouth and into the emesis basin the nurse was holding in front of him. Gibbs eased himself behind the senior agent and took over for the nurse thumping his back, helping him cough. He let out a sigh of relief when a glob of green and red mucus finally slid into the basin and DiNozzo sank backwards into Gibbs.

"There you go. Nice job, Tony," Gibbs said, running his hand over DiNozzo's hot forehead.

"Th-thanks, Boss," Tony whispered, and Gibbs grinned. It was the first really coherent thing Tony had said since getting off the ventilator, and it brought a pang of joy and relief with it.

As DiNozzo drifted off to sleep, Gibbs finally allowed himself to really think about the man's condition. His lungs had been severely affected by the ordeal, and there was a large measure of uncertainty around his long-term prognosis. It was entirely possible that DiNozzo would not be coming back to NCIS after this one, that his lungs were simply too fragile now, that he would have to get a desk job somewhere, one that didn't involve the stress and strain that came with being an active field agent. Gibbs frowned at the thought, stroking a hand absently over the sleeping agent's hand.

The next day brought some improvement, with DiNozzo's fever dropping somewhat and the coughing starting to subside, though not as much as the doctors would have liked. It also meant that Tony was getting restless.

There was some reprieve when Tim came in to visit; Gibbs suspected that the two men had needed to talk for a while now, and he left to give them a bit of privacy, pacing the hallway with a cup of coffee.

Tony had asked him earlier if he could leave the hospital, and it was a decision that Gibbs found surprisingly difficult to make. DiNozzo had been through this before, this coughing and hacking routine, and the hospital did little to make it more tolerable, just nurses pounding on his back and an oxygen mask on his face.

DiNozzo could probably get better more quickly if he was in a place he felt comfortable, and Gibbs had no problem with helping him recuperate. But if something were to go wrong, if something happened to Tony when he was out of the hospital with Gibbs, he wasn't sure he would be able to forgive himself. Ever.

So when Tim came out smiling and laughing and Gibbs went back in, greeted by a cheekily grinning, if slightly gaunt Tony, he wasn't sure what to do, emotions boiling inside him.

"So Gibbs," DiNozzo said, peering intently at the man he'd come to consider a father. Gibbs' indecision must have been apparent, as Tony immediately frowned. "Come on, Boss," he said, and his tone wasn't whining, but firm. Maybe bordering on panicked.

"I need to get out of here." Gibbs made no move, no reply, waiting for his senior agent to offer some kind of explanation.

"I was stuck in a car, unable to move, for three days. I was on a ventilator for a week. I need to get out of the freaking hospital and into someplace where I can _breathe_, Gibbs, where I can move if I want to, where I can-where I can _live_." He trailed off, coughing, and Gibbs didn't miss the tears rolling down his cheeks, the shaking hand that he brought to his mouth.

"The doctor has to say yes, and you have to stay with me. No arguments, Tony, you understand me?" Tony nodded, letting out a relieved sigh, and Gibbs stalked off to find a doctor.

xxxx

It wasn't all that hard to convince Brad to let Tony stay with Gibbs. As long as they took DiNozzo's antibiotics with them, had an oxygen tank on hand, as long as Gibbs knew what to do, they should be okay. The hospital had mostly been for monitoring his condition anyway, and when Gibbs explained Tony's slight meltdown, Brad had agreed that it was for the better to get DiNozzo out of there.

And so it was that Gibbs found himself pushing Tony down the hall in a wheelchair, his car already loaded with the things they would need, Tim and Abby walking alongside him, Abby chattering away. Tony was smiling wearily, eyes lit up for the first time since this whole crapshoot had started, and Gibbs knew instinctively that he had made the right choice.

They stepped into Gibbs' house, Tony slowly shuffling through the doorway with Gibbs directly behind him, one hand on his elbow. A sudden shout of 'surprise,' and Tony looked up, tears in his eyes, as a group of people appeared, gifts and flowers and cards in hand, a cake on the table and a banner suspended on the wall. Ducky and Jimmy and Cynthia and Ziva, even Vance and his family, Brad, a few nurses, even a guy from his frat that he hadn't seen in years. It was overwhelming and he faltered a bit, Gibbs gently easing him onto the couch with a smile.

"They're here for you, DiNozzo," Gibbs whispered, and Tony nodded, speechless. "They're here because you're a damn good agent, and they care about you."

"Thanks, Boss," Tony answered, sniffling lightly. "Now how about some cake?"

xxxx

A/N: Sorry this took forever! I've been a bit stuck about where to go with this…I think I know what I'm doing now, and there's still some Tony whump ahead. I'll try to post the next chapter super soon as a peace offering for taking a billion years.


	12. Chapter 12

Tony shivered again, and pulled the blanket tighter against his chest. He'd been staying with Gibbs for a week now, and though he hated to admit it, he wasn't feeling as great as he'd hoped he would be. He was still coughing and still felt weak, and could hardly make it the three steps to the bathroom without nearing collapse.

And now, with Gibbs at the grocery store and suddenly feeling a lot worse than he had been, DiNozzo was starting to think that leaving the hospital might not have been the best choice he'd ever made. Another chill swept over him and he shuddered convulsively, gripping the blanket with trembling fingers. He was starting to panic a little, wondering why the hell he felt so bad all of a sudden. He'd been getting better, inch by grueling inch, but now his heart thudded in his ears and he could hardly catch his breath, heaving in tiny shallow gasps.

He needed Gibbs.

Slowly, Tony shifted his body so that his feet hung over the couch, then heaved himself upright with trembling arms. The change in position made him dizzy, and the lightheadedness that overwhelmed him was so bad that before he could do anything further, DiNozzo felt a darkness surround him and knew no more.

xxxx

Gibbs opened the door awkwardly with one hand, bags of groceries balanced precariously in his arms. He'd tried to be considerate of DiNozzo in his selection, juice and soup and crackers and 7-Up making up the bulk of his purchases. He tried to be quiet in his entry, just in case Tony was sleeping, and deposited his groceries on his counter.

"Tony? You up?" He asked quietly, heading towards the den where DiNozzo was relaxing for the day. He was surprised to see that Tony wasn't on the couch, supposed he'd gone to the bathroom. But the bathroom door was wide open and it was clear that DiNozzo hadn't gone in there. A sudden apprehension settling into the pit of his stomach, Gibbs stepped into the den, alarmed to see DiNozzo's still form sprawled on the floor beside the sofa.

"DiNozzo? Hey, you okay?" Gibbs barked, falling to his knees beside the ill man. "Hey, Tony, come on," Gibbs said, worried at the heat emanating from his senior agent. His temperature had spiked, and drastically.

"Come on, son, come on," Gibbs murmured, gently shaking Tony's shoulder. DiNozzo groaned slightly and shifted, and Gibbs sighed in relief when sleepy eyes blinked open.

"Gibbs?" He whispered, and Gibbs nodded.

"Yeah, it's me DiNozzo. What the hell are you doing on the floor?" Tony blinked slowly, eyelids threatening to close. A spike of fear shot through Gibbs. "Hey, hey, stay awake. What's going on?" Tony's eyes rolled as he fought to keep them open.

"am I?" he murmured brokenly, and Gibbs realized he was asking where he was.

"You're at my place, remember? Come on Tony, stay with me," he said, tapping Tony's cheek insistently. A weak hand came up and swatted at his face, and Gibbs gently grabbed it, heart suddenly pounding. There were tiny pinpoints that looked like blood just under the skin covering Tony's arm. Gibbs slowly lifted Tony's shirt and was horrified to find the same spots covering his torso.

DiNozzo was shivering spastically, eyes glossy as he stared at Gibbs.

"Holy shit DiNozzo, what the hell is going on?" He whispered, quickly dialing Ducky's number. "Just hang on, okay?" He grabbed a blanket and tucked it around his shivering friend's shoulders, again alarmed at the heat he could feel.

"Jethro? What is it? Is it Anthony?" Ducky inquired, and Gibbs quickly relayed the symptoms Tony was exhibiting. He wished that he could have missed Ducky's sharp intake of breath.

"Duck? Is this bad?"

"Very bad, Jethro. You need to call an ambulance, immediately."

xxxx

Another ambulance ride from hell, and Gibbs almost couldn't believe where he was. This shouldn't have been happening, wouldn't have been happening if he'd just forced Tony to stay in the damn hospital…

"BP is 70/40, we're starting an IV to try to bring it up. Temp's 103.8 and rising," a paramedic said into the radio, and Gibbs let his head rest in his hands. This was not good. Tony was moaning feebly, head jerking beneath the oxygen mask, sweat beading his forehead. His breathing started to quicken, shallow gasps that frightened Gibbs far more than he cared to admit.

How in the _hell_ had things gotten this bad?

A sudden beeping had Gibbs looking up in panic as the medics looked worriedly at the heart rate monitor.

"Whoa, he's throwing PVCs," one of the medics said, inserting something into Tony's IV. "What the hell is this?" Gibbs felt his panic rise yet another notch when DiNozzo's heart rate seemed to increase in its sporadic rhythm, and he started panting. _I am NOT about to watch DiNozzo die in the back of this damn ambulance! This isn't happening._

"Come on, kid, come on Tony," Gibbs whispered, stroking Tony's sweat soaked hair from his forehead.

"Shit. He's in v-tach." Gibbs watched on in horror as the paramedics got the defibrillator out, looked away as he heard the familiar whine and the thud that followed it. He felt as though he'd just been here, had just _left _here, shouldn't be watching this again, not when Tony was getting better.

"No conversion. Let's shock him again."

Gibbs shut his eyes, relieved when he heard the sporadic beeping begin again. Better than nothing.

They arrived at the hospital, a bag being squeezed over DiNozzo's face, the paramedics holding bags of fluids above his prone body. Gibbs traveled with them, holding tightly to Tony's hand, wondering yet again what the hell was happening. He'd been getting better, he'd been okay, he'd…

"He's back in v-tach," someone shouted as they wheeled Tony into a trauma room. "Temp's at 104.3."

"Okay, let's get the crash cart and get some ice packs in here. We need some epi," someone shouted, and Gibbs allowed himself to sink into the background. The paddles were applied to the still chest yet again, and Gibbs was relieved when it only took one shock to get a rhythm back.

"Whoa, we've got petechiae on the arms and torso, might be looking at septicemia here. I need a set of blood cultures for confirmation," a doctor said, barking orders for more drugs, and Gibbs stood up straighter. Septicemia? _Blood poisioning_? How in the _hell_ did DiNozzo get septicemia?

"Sir? Sir, are you with Mr. DiNozzo?" A nurse asked, and Gibbs nodded numbly. "Has Mr. DiNozzo-"

"Tony," Gibbs muttered, and the nurse nodded in understanding.

"Has Tony been ill recently?" Gibbs chuckled wryly. Ill was an understatement.

"Yeah. He uh, had pneumonia." The nurse sighed.

"It's rare, but septicemia can come from infections essentially anywhere in the body, lungs included. He's going into septic shock." Gibbs blinked rapidly.

"Septic shock? Is he going to be okay?" The nurse shrugged.

"We're going to do everything we can, Mr…"

"Gibbs. You can just call me Gibbs."

"Okay, Gibbs, we're doing everything we can. We've got him stabilized for the moment and we're going to take him up to ICU. You can see him once he's settled."

xxxx

Gibbs sat, again, next to Tony's bed, stroked his hand absently, staring at the still man before him. His pneumonia had turned into septicemia, and Tony had fallen into septic shock. The doctors thought that the infection might be targeting his heart as well, and were waiting on test results to confirm their diagnosis. Gibbs was having a hard time wrapping his mind around everything and found himself at a loss for words.

DiNozzo looked even worse than before. He was on a ventilator again, cheeks flushed and forehead glistening with sweat. They were checking his hemodynamic something-or-other and all it meant to Gibbs was that there were even more wires connected to his still agent.

"Jethro?" A voice startled him from his reverie. It was said tentatively, but there was no mistaking the thick accent.

"Hey Duck," Gibbs said wearily.

"Jethro, I am so sorry," Ducky said, stepping into the room and looking sadly at Tony. "Oh my dear boy, you can't do anything easily, can you?"

"Not his style," Gibbs muttered. He stared at the still man in front of him and took a deep breath. "Ducky, I want your honest opinion."

"Always, Jethro."

"Is he going to make it out of this?" There was a pause that was horribly stagnant, both disheartening and frightening.

"Jethro, it's a long shot. He's already weak. And if he does make it, there is no way he's coming back to work. Especially if he has endocarditis as the doctors suspect. If he makes it, Jethro, he'll have a very long recovery period and it's unlikely he'll ever be in top physical form again. Should things continue as they are, we could even be looking at a transplant down the road. Things are not looking as good as they could be, Jethro." Gibbs didn't even bother trying to hide the tears that ran down his face. This was overwhelming and bad and…and Gibbs was starting to realize that it was, essentially, his worst nightmare. Losing his family again.

"Did I do this, Ducky?" He whispered shakily, wiping his cheeks with a finely trembling hand.

"Jethro, you couldn't know this would happen. Even the doctors didn't see it coming. You gave Anthony happiness, Jethro, maybe-maybe for the last time." Gibbs nodded and bent over, shoulders shaking with sobs as he clutched at Tony's hand.

"Please Tony, you've got to pull through this," he whispered, not reacting when he felt Ducky's hand land gently on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Tony, I'm sorry," he murmured, over and over again. He said it as if perhaps repeating it would make it more effective, as if it could strengthen the fragile hold DiNozzo had on life.

"I'm sorry, Tony."

xxxx

A/N: As promised, quick update! Sorry if alerts didn't go out on the last one…not sure what happened there.


	13. Chapter 13

McGee sat dejectedly at his desk, idly spinning in his chair. Ziva was sitting in her chair with much the same attitude, chin in hand, sighing. They'd been relegated to desk duty until a temp could be found for DiNozzo, and Gibbs had taken every single minute of PTO he'd accumulated and hadn't been at work for a week, since Tony had started staying at his house. Tim chuckled to himself as he realized that he missed Tony and his ADD, the asinine ways he found to keep himself entertained. He even missed the paper projectiles that had flown his way just before this whole thing started.

"You miss him," Ziva commented, looking intently at him.

"Yeah, I do," Tim answered, again surprised at himself. A month ago, he would have laughed in the face of anyone who suggested that he would soon openly admit that he missed DiNozzo, yet here he was, more than willing to say it.

"He will be okay, McGee." Tim nodded, sighing as he spun his chair around again. He smiled slightly as he recalled the conversation he'd had with Tony in the hospital.

"_Heard you almost jumped in after me, Probie," Tony murmured, his voice croaking slightly._

"_Yeah." He didn't know what to say beyond that, still felt some lingering guilt from that day on the bridge._

"_Glad you didn't, Tim," Tony said, a light smile on his lips._

"_What?" Tim was slightly startled. He certainly hadn't been expecting that._

"_You would've been a McPopsicle, Probie. You'd be lucky to be in that bed next to me." McGee blinked, uncertain of how to react. _

"_I-You-You aren't mad?" Tony snorted, throwing Tim a weak but recognizable version of his classic smirk._

"_Hell no, Probie. Doesn't mean I'm not gonna ride your ass about it when I get back to work though. Soon as I get out of here, you'd better watch your back, McGee." Tim grinned, relieved to hear the familiar joking._

"_Yeah Tony, like I don't already." A wicked glimmer appeared in Tony's eyes, though he was beginning to show signs of weariness. _

"_It'll get worse, McGee. You ain't seen nothin' yet."_

The phone rang suddenly and both Tim and Ziva jumped, laughing sheepishly.

"Agent McGee," Tim said, lifting the phone to his ear.

"Timothy? It's Ducky." McGee frowned and he could see Ziva slowly stand up.

"Ducky? Isn't it your day off?"

"Yes, my boy, but something has happened-"

"It's Tony, isn't it."

"There have been some complications. You should probably come to Bethesda."

xxxx

"McGee! I feel like I haven't seen you in forever! It's not the same without Tony around, is it?" Abby squealed as Tim walked into the lab. She stopped when she noticed the expression on his face.

"Timmy? What's going on? Is it- oh, no. Did something happen?" Tim nodded miserably.

"Abby, Tony's-he's back in the hospital. It uh, it doesn't look good. We're heading up to see him." Abby stood still for a moment, biting her lip in an obvious effort to hold back her tears.

"Don't tell me that, McGee," she whispered finally, trying to contain her emotions. McGee stepped towards her.

"Abby?" He asked quietly. Abby held a hand up.

"Just-just give me a minute," she said, her voice trembling.

"Abby-"

"Just give me a damn minute, McGee!" Tim stepped back in surprise, watching as Abby turned towards her computers, arms braced on the desk, elbows locked. She brought a shaking hand up to wipe at her nose, then broke down completely, shoulders shaking. Tim moved to her side and wrapped his arms around her, allowing himself to catch her weight and ease them both to the floor.

"Ssh, Abs, he'll be okay, you'll see. He's going to be fine," Tim whispered, hugging his friend tightly and resting one hand on her head.

"He's- he's already been through so m-much _shit_!" Abby wailed, and McGee nodded, still murmuring soothing sounds. "I don't know what I'll d-do if-if…" Abby's voice trailed off as she broke down again, and Tim found tears running down his own cheeks as he held her.

xxxx

McGee found himself sitting in another uncomfortable chair, listening to another ventilator, staring at the same man he'd thought was getting better. He'd wrapped his hands around one of Tony's, the one with less tubing sticking out of it, and tried to wrap his head around what he was being told. Stuff like 'irreversible damage' and 'septic shock.' He'd told Abby that Tony would be okay, and that he would be fine, and now he was starting to wonder if he wasn't a liar.

And damn if that didn't piss him off.

It was a strange feeling of numbness and anger that blended together and blurred around the edges, and McGee wasn't really sure what he was feeling at all now. He was pissed that Tony had to go through this crap when he'd just been getting over everything else he'd been put through. He was pissed that a man was doing his job, was trying to keep people safe, and had ended up here, fighting for his life, for the second time in a month. He was pissed that DiNozzo would let himself succumb to this. Logically, he knew that was irrational, that it wasn't Tony's fault and that it certainly wasn't his idea, but a small, very vocal part of him, wanted to scream at the senior agent and shake him, tell him to fight this and to stop messing around, they got it already, knew that they needed him, that they were somehow incomplete without him there.

They'd finally realized they needed him, and now he was threatening to leave. It wasn't fair.

"Hey McGee," Gibbs said suddenly, startling Tim.

"G-Gibbs," he stuttered, looking up at the man who had become his mentor. "I-I can't- what the hell are we going to do?"

"I don't know, McGee. I guess we take it a day at a time."

"But Ducky said-I mean, is it true? Is Tony not coming back? Ever?" Tim asked, trying not to sound as whiny and desperate as he suspected he was sounding. Gibbs sighed and let a hand rest on McGee's shoulder. It felt strangely heavy.

"Yeah, Tim. DiNozzo won't be coming back after this one." Tim felt the overwhelming feelings that had been far too common of late, found himself breathing quickly and somewhat erratically as he tried to quell his emotions.

"Damn it," he whispered, and Gibbs chuckled sardonically.

"You said it, McGee. This is screwed to hell."


	14. Chapter 14

It hurt to see him like this. Still, lifeless, sporting tubes and wires from what seemed to be every inch of his body, the heart monitor beeping fairly rhythmically. The blood tests and echocardiogram only confirmed what the doctors had feared; the infection had attacked Tony's heart. Now it was a matter of waiting, praying for the antibiotics to do their job, for the fever to come down and the infection to go away and the heart rate to steady out. Praying that the surgery to repair broken down heart valves would never become a necessity, that the rampant infection could be reined in and stopped before affecting kidneys and liver and brain.

Gibbs was as close to a wreck as anyone at NCIS had seen him. He came to work sporadically, usually only to rip a new one off DiNozzo's temporary replacement or to interrogate some hapless suspect with none of his usual finesse, almost always just going straight for the jugular in a frighteningly contained rage.

The rest of his time was spent at Tony's bedside, sometimes reading, sometimes sleeping, sometimes whispering gently, always keeping physical contact. His hand never left DiNozzo's, as if in an unconscious attempt to ground his senior agent, who alternated between deathly stillness and feverish ramblings, as if saying _stay, Tony_, just with his touch. Ducky suspected that he hadn't had more than a few hours uncomfortable, hospital-chair sleep in a week, and he had lost some weight, his eyes sunken and red-rimmed.

"Jethro," Ducky said softly, gently touching the distraught man's shoulder. "You need to get some sleep, Gibbs. I know how hard this is for you, but we can't afford to have you ill as well."

"I'm fine, Duck."

"You are not fine, Jethro. I'm old, but I'm not blind. You aren't sleeping, nor are you eating, and unless you allow yourself to get some rest, some real rest, you're going to drive yourself into the ground. I don't need to tell you that Timothy, Ziva, and Abby are barely holding it together as it is." The slight shift in Gibbs' stance, the small droop of his shoulders, told Ducky that he'd heard and accepted his words, much as he didn't want to listen to them.

"Ducky," Gibbs said without taking his gaze from DiNozzo, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can't-what if he goes? What if he goes and I'm not here? What if he goes _because_ I'm not here?" Ducky had the same sinking feeling he'd had so many times before, when he'd had to tell family members that loved ones hadn't made it, that feeling he'd had when he wasn't able to do _any_ damn thing, and he had to be the one to stand there and say so.

"Jethro," he said, his own voice quavering slightly. "If Anthony- if he doesn't make it, he's put up a good fight. He's been trying, for you, Jethro. If he goes, you can be sure that he's not in any pain anymore, and you can know that he knows how much he means to you. But Gibbs, he's made it this far, and he's a stubborn son of a bitch. I think he may have a better chance at this than we give him credit for."

Gibbs nodded, standing up and wiping his eyes.

"I will stay with him, Jethro. I don't want to see you back here for at least four hours, understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, see you in a few," Gibbs said, standing up and walking stiffly from the room.

xxxx

"Well Anthony, you managed to crack him," Ducky said, absently stroking DiNozzo's hair as he spoke. "I wasn't certain that anyone would, you see. He was so hurt and bitter."

xxxx

Gibbs wiped a shaky hand over his forehead, feeling the tears welling up. He'd cried more in the past week than he had for years, but as he dropped exhaustedly onto his bed, he couldn't stop himself. Sobs wracked his body and he curled in on himself, arms over his head and shoulders shaking.

xxxx

"He sees you as family, DiNozzo, as the son he never had. I imagine he filled a similar hole for you, didn't he? You've got people here who care about you, Tony. Do not forget that. You've got to hold on, for them. If we lose you- if we lose you, I fear Jethro will not be able to recover."

xxxx

Gibbs woke suddenly, eyes snapping open, dried tears crusted around his eyes. The room was dark, and for a second he was disoriented, uncertain of where he was. Reality returned all too quickly, the memory of the last hellish weeks and the man who was fighting for his life, the memory of his own part in what had happened. Suddenly he was afraid, afraid to return to that lonely hospital room to find weeping people and an empty bed.

It took all his courage to drive back to that hospital.

Ducky was standing outside the room, a small smile on his face.

"He's awake, Jethro. He's still got a long way to go, but he's awake."

xxxx

In another few days, he was off the vent, but he was still being pumped full of antibiotics and blood to help his struggling heart. His breathing was ragged but existent, and that was good enough for Gibbs; another day and his eyes opened.

"Gibbs?" He rasped, voice rough and harsh. He coughed afterward, lifted grateful eyes to his boss when he slipped an ice chip into his mouth.

"Hey, DiNozzo."

"Boss? What the-" Tony paused, coughed again, pressed on. "What the hell happened?"

"Your pneumonia spread, DiNozzo. You got blood poisoning." Tony blinked, looking at Gibbs in obvious confusion.

"How? From my lungs to my blood? I know I've been out of it, hell I'm still out of it, but how that doesn't make sense, Boss."

"It's possible, DiNozzo. Rare, but possible, and your immune system wasn't exactly up to par anyway." DiNozzo nodded, absently rubbing his chest.

"That isn't all, is it?" He asked, staring intently at the older man. "Something feels wrong." Gibbs took a deep breath.

"Tony, the infection, it, uh, it attacked your heart." DiNozzo looked blankly at him.

"What does that mean?"

"Tony-"

"What the hell does that mean?" Tony's voice rose, his heart rate speeding up.

"DiNozzo! You need to calm down, you get me?" DiNozzo nodded, glaring at Gibbs as he forced himself to take deep breaths.

"Gibbs." His tone was hard and icy, and he glared at the older man as he talked. "What. The hell. Does that mean?" Gibbs looked him in the eye and gripped Tony's shoulder.

"It means that you're on antibiotics for awhile. As in months, DiNozzo. It means that we have to watch you like a hawk to make sure you don't get any complications." Noticing Tony opening his mouth, he held up a hand. "If this goes south it could mean heart surgery, or it could mean your kidneys could fail. You could get a blood clot that could result in a stroke or that could travel to your lungs."

"Wow Boss, any good news?" Tony asked finally, clearly somewhat taken aback.

"I've got your six, DiNozzo. We've got you signed up for the therapy you're going to need to strengthen your heart and lungs, and we've got the antibiotics covered. I'm going to be here every step of the way." DiNozzo looked at him, lip trembling.

"You don't think I can come back, do you?" He asked quietly, coughing slightly. Gibbs looked down for a second, then back up, blue eyes meeting hazy green. He didn't want to do this, not here and not now, but he had never willingly lied to his senior agent and sure as hell wouldn't start now.

"I don't see how, DiNozzo. Your lung function's already questionable. You bring a bad heart into the equation…Tony, you're…No. I don't think you can come back." Tony's jaw tightened, his fists curling. His breathing started to quicken, coming in sharp pants.

"Get out," he muttered, the anger obvious in the sharp tone.

"Tony-"

"Get the hell out!" His heart rate quickened again, and this time it wasn't slowing. Gibbs watched in concern as Tony's face started to redden, reaching behind his head to press the call button.

"Get-out," Tony repeated between heaving breaths, but his voice had lost most of its strength, and his chest was sawing up and down sporadically.

"I need some help in here!" Gibbs bellowed as Tony's eyes rolled back and the heart rate monitor started to beep an alarm. Where the hell was everyone? "DiNozzo, you stay with me. You hear me, you stay with me. Hey! Someone get your ass in here, _now!_"

Finally, what seemed like ages after he'd first called, a doctor hurried into the room, stethoscope already out.

"Tony, Tony come on," he muttered, rubbing a knuckle over DiNozzo's sternum. "Sir, you need to leave now." Someone hustled him out of the room, where he sat heavily in a chair, head in hands.

Ages later, a doctor came out and explained that Tony would be okay, at least, relatively speaking. With no further setbacks, they would let him out of the hospital in a few more days with a strict regimen of antibiotics to take and therapy scheduled to start in a few weeks. Gibbs nodded wearily.

Hesitantly, he stepped into DiNozzo's room, immediately drawn by the half-open eyes that peered at him.

"I'm coming back, Gibbs," Tony rasped, his voice hoarse and full of emotion. "You and the doctors can go to hell. I'm coming back."

Gibbs allowed himself to smile.

xxxx

A/N: Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter and thanks for sticking with me! I don't expect this to be too much longer, so hang tight.


	15. Chapter 15

Gibbs sighed as he walked back into the bullpen, flanked by Ziva and McGee. Tony was at his desk, sound asleep, head down and light snores filling the room. McGee chuckled and shook his head, quietly gathering his things together, and Ziva looked on with concern as Gibbs placed a gentle hand to the sleeping agent's forehead.

Six weeks after DiNozzo had been readmitted to the hospital, he was working half-time desk duty, therapy in the morning and work in the afternoon. It was hardly an optimal situation; the therapy left him feeling so exhausted that he often fell asleep at work, and desk duty was frustratingly dull for Tony. Still, it was a step in the right direction and had DiNozzo feeling not only needed, but also as part of the team again. Gibbs knew that his agent needed to be around his teammates, knew that it was helping him recover more fully.

"Gibbs, I am worried," Ziva whispered, looking at the slumbering man with a small frown. "I think that he is pushing himself too hard."

"Ziva, the doctors said that if he didn't do anything strenuous, he would be okay to work," Gibbs answered, not wanting to tell her that Tony had no other family, that he needed them. It was too personal a thing for Tony, too much of a weakness to divulge, though part of Gibbs suspected that Ziva already knew what he was saying.

Ziva frowned, then nodded, standing slowly.

"Well then. I will see you tomorrow, Gibbs." She let her gaze linger on DiNozzo's sleeping form, then noticed the hand Gibbs still held protectively on his agent's back. "Take care of him." Then she was gone, and only Gibbs remained with DiNozzo, a scenario he had found himself in increasingly. Though Tony was back in his apartment now, he still spent much of his time with Gibbs, sometimes too exhausted after work and therapy to cook a meal, sometimes depressed after a hard day and needing the familiar companionship Gibbs provided.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said quietly, shaking Tony's shoulder gently. Tony grunted and waved a feeble hand in Gibbs' direction, mumbling something incoherently under his breath.

"Hey. Time to go home," Gibbs said more forcefully helping prop DiNozzo up as the agent slowly returned to consciousness.

"Oh. Right. Sorry Boss," Tony muttered, rubbing at his eyes. "Keys." He groped in his pockets for a moment without success, then opened his desk drawer, finally producing his keys after a fair bit of groping around.

"You really think I'm gonna let you drive, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, and Tony blinked up at him.

"Umm…yes?"

"Like hell. Come on, you can stay at my place tonight, I can drop you off at the therapist's before I go to work and I'll have McGee pick you up on his lunch break." Tony stumbled to his feet, and reached a lightly trembling hand for his backpack. Gibbs picked it up without a word, slinging it over his shoulder and striding to the elevator. He walked just a tad slower than usual in an attempt to make it easier for Tony to follow him, tried to make it subtle so the younger man wouldn't notice, but judging by the scowl on DiNozzo's face, he knew exactly what Gibbs was doing.

They stepped into the elevator, neither one speaking and Tony glaring pointedly at the ceiling.

"DiNozzo-"

"I'm fine, Boss. I don't need this. I don't need you to take me home, and I don't need McGee to pick me up for work, and I don't need you to pick up my damn backpack. This is bullshit, Gibbs! You could at least try to act like I'm still senior agent, like I still have some worth. I know that I'm not at 100% yet, and maybe it'll be a while, but I'm working my ass off here, and I am trying _damn_ hard, so give me some damn credit!" Gibbs stared at Tony, who was panting slightly and clenching his fists.

"You done, DiNozzo?" He asked finally, eyebrow raised. Tony shot a quick glance at him and nodded once. "Okay. I'm worried about you overdoing it, Tony. It was a close thing this time, DiNozzo. Forgive me if I'm still concerned about your health," Gibbs spat, and Tony looked up. "I just want you to be okay," he added, more quietly. DiNozzo looked down, cleared his throat.

"Boss, I…" His voice trailed off uncertainly, and Gibbs realized with a pang of sadness that Tony probably hadn't had anyone come outright and say that they cared about him before.

"It's okay, DiNozzo. I got your six." Tony looked up and smiled gratefully, clearly more at ease, and Gibbs clapped a hand on his shoulder.

DiNozzo would fall asleep again before they even got back to Gibbs' place, and Gibbs would quietly lift his friend and carry him into his house.

Some days, Gibbs remembered what it felt like to be a father.

xxxx

McGee could tell that DiNozzo was more bored than usual, and was starting to think that something was going to snap soon if nothing changed. Tony was spinning absently in his chair, which emitted a high pitched squeak every time it turned, occasionally pausing long enough to make some teasing remark about Tim's hair or suit or shoes, sometimes throwing an eraser or paperclip at him.

"Tony! Can you just- could you please sit still?" He finally growled, trying to rein in the frustration that was threatening to bubble over.

"McGoo, I've done enough sitting still to last a lifetime, okay? You're just jealous that I've got a spinning chair." Tim frowned, shaking his head.

"My chair spins too, Tony," he said, the 'duh' evident in his tone. DiNozzo stopped spinning long enough to fix Tim with a fake look of surprise.

"Oh, it does? Guess you're just not manly enough to spin as fast as me," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. McGee narrowed his eyes and started spinning his chair in circles. Tony noticed and ratcheted his own spinning up a notch, until both men were whirling madly, chairs threatening to fall over and papers fluttering through the air.

"McGee! DiNozzo! What the hell is going on?" Gibbs barked, striding into the bullpen with Ziva just behind. Both men stopped abruptly, McGee shaking his head in an attempt to see straight, and Tony groaning slightly with a hand to his head.

"Umm…N-nothing, Boss," McGee stuttered finally, and Tony nodded his agreement. Gibbs just shook his head.

"McGee, I need you to go interview our suspect's wife; Ziva and I are checking the crime scene out again. Sounds like the CSIs might've found more info."

McGee nodded as Ziva and Gibbs left again; he had practically forgotten that they were working on another case now. It still felt strange to be going to crime scenes without Tony. Straightening, Tim picked up his backpack and slung it over a shoulder, glancing at DiNozzo as he did so. Tony was staring dejectedly at his computer, lips set in a thin line.

"Tony," Tim said finally, and DiNozzo waved a hand at him.

"Have fun," Tony mumbled, and Tim sighed.

"Come on. It's just an interview; why don't you come with me?" Tony's head snapped up.

"I dunno, Probie," he said, but he was already reaching for his backpack as he spoke. Tim smiled.

"Come on. If we're fast, we'll get back before Gibbs even realizes you came with me."

xxxx

McGee pounded on the door, and Tony found himself looking around nervously. He had expected to be invigorated and excited to be out in the field again, but he found himself bored and, though he hated to admit it, anxious. Gibbs would rip him a new one if he found out about this.

"Mrs. Blackly?" Tim called, knocking again. There was no reply. DiNozzo felt a thrill of excitement and panic as Tim took position to one side of the door, gun drawn, and Tony stood at the other. He'd had to sign out a firearm as he still wasn't technically qualified to have one.

With a silent count of three, McGee kicked the door in, and both agents entered the room, sweeping through quickly.

"Shit, we've got a runner," McGee muttered as a man ran in front of them and out the back door. McGee took off after him, Tony just behind him.

_Oh crap oh crap oh crap…_Tony thought desperately, trying to gauge where the suspect would likely head. He knew his way fairly well around here, knew that there was an alley that would come out directly in front of the suspect's escape route.

_Gibbs is gonna kill me_. He ran as quickly as he could through the alley, trying to ignore the increasing pain he felt in his chest, the difficulty breathing that was starting to build up. He could do this.

Tony came out of the alley abruptly, bent double and panting as he heard the approaching footfalls of the man they were chasing. Steeling himself, he grit his teeth and used the last bit of his draining strength to tackle the man. They went down in a tangle of limbs and DiNozzo realized that he was in way over his head as the aching pain exploded full force. He felt light-headed, his heart pounding irregularly in his ears.

DiNozzo swore under his breath as he felt himself being yanked upright, then the press of a gun under his chin, forcing his head back. Breathing heavily, Tony realized that McGee had caught up, was shouting at the man to let him go. The man shouted back, and DiNozzo had no idea what was going on, the dizziness overwhelming him and his vision blurring. He could tell he was starting to hyperventilate. Something was way the hell wrong.

A gunshot rang out suddenly and Tony didn't know what had happened, but he was falling, head connecting painfully with the ground. He realized suddenly that the man had not fallen, but had run off. Which meant…

"Tim!" DiNozzo gasped, managing to raise his head off the ground long enough to recognize the crumpled form in front of him. "No! McGee!" He tried to pull himself up, but the sudden change in position made him even dizzier, and he blacked out.

It must have been only a few seconds before Tony came back to awareness. Crawling laboriously forward, heaving breaths doing little to get air to his desperate lungs, DiNozzo finally, finally reached Tim's side.

"McGee, come on," he gasped, looking in horror at the blood that had formed a pool around the younger man. DiNozzo reached a trembling hand out, looking for the source of the blood, finally found the bullet wound high in the right shoulder.

Tony couldn't think. Panic was overwhelming him, and combined with the pain and dizziness, he didn't know what to do. He muttered pleas to McGee, pressing on the wound because he knew, somehow, that that was important, felt a strange buzzing sensation in his leg, finally registered that it was his phone.

Flipping the phone open with a shaking, bloody hand, DiNozzo wasn't even sure what he said, only knew that Gibbs was coming, would come and make everything okay again.

xxxx

As the phone rang again and again, Gibbs had the sinking feeling that his gut was right, once again.

"Come on DiNozzo, pick up, damn it!"

"B-boss?" Tony's voice was weak and breathy and entirely disconcerting.

"Tony? Where are you? Where's Tim? What the hell's going on?" Gibbs barked, motioning to Ziva. He wished Tim was here to magically track DiNozzo's cell.

"Dunno, Boss…alley…he ran, Boss…shot McGee…don't feel so good," Tony stuttered out, and Gibbs felt his stomach drop. McGee was shot? And what the hell was wrong with DiNozzo?

"Which alley, DiNozzo? This is important. You need to tell me where you are."

"Dunno…"

"Tony! That's an order, you hear me?"

"Behind…behind his house…near 32nd street maybe…dizzy, Boss, hurts," DiNozzo panted, and Gibbs was already in the car, heart pounding at the sound of his agent's voice. Ziva was calling for an ambulance to meet them, Gibbs pealing out of the drive and roaring towards Tony and Tim.

It was as bad as he feared.

Tim was lying on the ground, face white and blood surrounding him. Tony was sprawled over him, unconscious, veins distended and face glistening with sweat.

"Tony! Tim!" Ziva cried, mumbling a few Hebrew words under her breath. They reached the downed men's sides at the same time, Gibbs gently rolling Tony off of Tim, Ziva immediately applying pressure to the wound.

"How is he?" Gibbs muttered even as he looked over Tony for any outward injury.

"He's lost a lot of blood. There's an exit wound," Ziva replied, her tone clipped and short. "Tony?"

"I don't know," Gibbs answered, feeling Tony's irregular and racing pulse beneath his fingertips. DiNozzo's lips were already turning blue, his nail beds the same color. "I think it's his heart."

Inwardly, Gibbs cursed at his agent, cursed at Tony and Tim for disobeying orders, cursed at the junkie that had led to all this, cursed at himself…

With a gasp, Tony's eyes fluttered open, staring without focus at Gibbs' concerned face.

"Tony? Hey, hey, take it easy," Gibbs admonished as DiNozzo weakly tried to sit up.

"Boss?"

"Yeah, it's me Tony."

"Tim? Oh shit, McGeek."

"He's going to be okay, Tony. Just lay back."

"Boss?"

"Yeah Tony, right here." DiNozzo's hand was fisting in Gibbs' shirt, desperately clinging, and Gibbs felt tears coming to his eyes despite his best efforts.

"Don't think- don't think I can- come back-after all," Tony panted, tears running down his cheeks.

"I know, it's okay, Tony, it's okay," Gibbs soothed, running his thumb in circles on Tony's forehead. Where the hell was the ambulance?

"What-what 'm I- gonna do?" Tony gasped brokenly, and Gibbs felt the tears spill over.

"Don't worry about that, DiNozzo. You're okay, it's okay." It wasn't okay. Nothing was okay. His senior agent was never going to be able to return to the job he loved. He was never going to be healthy again. McGee was lying in a pool of his own blood.

"Boss?" Tony was getting even more desperate now, unfocused eyes rolling.

"I'm here, Tony," Gibbs whispered.

"'M scared, Boss." Gibbs cradled the broken man to his chest, listening as the sirens of the ambulance finally sounded and drew closer, looking over at Ziva still pressing on McGee's wound, at the pale agent starting to rouse slightly, wincing in pain.

"Me too, Tony."


	16. Chapter 16

Gibbs was at a complete loss for the first time in recent recollection. He had no idea what to do anymore, had nothing to fall back on for reference, had no similar experiences to draw on.

Tony wasn't coming back.

Ever.

He was in a bed fighting for his life,_ again,_ an all too common occurrence of late. But this time, it was different. This time, there was irreversible damage to his heart that meant surgery once he stabilized, that meant changing valves while his heart was stopped, that meant that he wouldn't be able to come back to work again, that meant that nothing would ever be the same.

Gibbs looked up as a gurney was wheeled in front of him; it wasn't Tony, so he paid it no mind.

Rubbing a weary hand over his face, Gibbs stood and made his way to the doorway of McGee's room. Visiting hours were long over, but Abby had stubbornly refused to leave Tim's side, and Gibbs smiled as he noticed how she slept curled in the chair, head resting next to McGee's. He would be okay, with time; it would take rehab and therapy to regain full strength in his shoulder, but he would recover.

DiNozzo wouldn't.

It was a brutal reality that he was struggling to come to terms with. There were so many implications from that one, harsh fact, so many things to think about. Recovery time would be long. Tony would be crushed, and he would need support, desperately, to get through recovery and just life in general. He would need someone to look out for him, and he didn't have anyone, not really.

This time, when the doors opened and someone came out on a stretcher, it was DiNozzo. Gibbs watched as he was wheeled away, afraid that if he looked anywhere else, Tony would be gone.

"We're just taking him up to surgery, Mr. Gibbs," a doctor said, approaching him with paperwork extended. "We need your signature here and here."

Gibbs nodded absently, barely glancing at the papers he was signing.

"How long will this take? How long before we know if- if he makes it?"

"The surgery itself should take somewhere around 3 hours. As far as Mr. DiNozzo's status…Well, that could take longer. This surgery has many risks, Mr. Gibbs. Mortality rates are fairly high, but Mr. DiNozzo's youth, at least, is on his side. Most of these surgeries are performed on elderly people."

_Yeah, I bet those elderly people haven't had the plague, and I bet most of them haven't been stranded in freezing conditions for days at a time either._

"You'll keep me updated?" Gibbs asked, handing the papers back. The man nodded.

"I'll let the surgeon know. He usually tries to let the family know how things are going as he works, so I'll see to it that you're informed."

"Thanks," Gibbs said, and then the doctor was gone, and the agent suddenly realized that all of his ruminations could be premature, that he might never even see DiNozzo again.

He sat heavily in a hard, plastic chair and allowed his head to drop into his hands. Time passed with no meaning; Ducky arrived at some point, sitting next to him silently, and then Ziva. Gibbs knew they were there to support him as much as Tony, but he was too despondent to really care, and he certainly wasn't in the mood to carry on conversation. They sat quietly, all lost in their own thoughts. By the time Gibbs looked at his watch, four hours had passed and his back was killing him.

"Four hours, Duck. They said three."

"They said _around_ three, Jethro, and in this case, I do believe that no news is good news."

"Surgeon couldn't even be bothered to keep us updated, huh?" Gibbs didn't vocalize his other, scarier thought, that the surgeon had too much to deal with in the surgery itself to tell them what was going on. He didn't want to think about Tony, chest splayed open, someone working up to the elbows _in_ him. He was relieved when Ducky seemed to recognize his hesitance and didn't respond.

A few more minutes passed in silence before the swinging doors finally opened and the surgeon stepped out. Gibbs was glad to see that he'd changed his shirt, presumably to prevent them from seeing Tony's blood smeared on him, but there were a few splatters on his pants and shoes, and Gibbs swallowed hard. The man approached without even asking, seemed to know exactly who they were.

"Anthony DiNozzo, yes?" He asked, drawing next to them. Gibbs stood, consciously forcing himself not to pop his back.

"Yes. How is he?" The man took a deep breath and Gibbs' jaw tightened.

"He made it through." That was good, Gibbs knew, but the man's tone was such that he felt his stomach dropping.

"But?" He prompted, and the surgeon nodded as if he wasn't surprised that Gibbs had picked up on his hesitant manner.

"There were some complications. We had some trouble resuscitating him after the surgery was complete, but it wasn't long enough that we anticipate any problems from oxygen deprivation. The damage to the heart, however, was severe, worse than we anticipated. We repaired it as best we could, but he will likely need to have surgery again in the not-so-distant future, and he might be looking at a transplant somewhere down the line."

Gibbs sat down again, his own heart thudding in his ears. DiNozzo was so damn young, it seemed incomprehensible that he suddenly had such severe health issues.

"What does that mean, doc?" Gibbs asked, afraid of the answer but knowing he needed to hear it.

"It means that he may develop congestive heart failure between now and then, in which case-"

"-In which case there's no way he can work at NCIS." Gibbs turned in surprise towards Ziva, who was standing to the side, one hand wrapped around her stomach, the other hovering around her mouth. Gibbs didn't miss its trembling.

"Ziva," Ducky said, reaching his arms out and wrapping them around her. Ziva allowed herself to be hugged, tears streaming silently down her face. Gibbs looked away, back at the surgeon.

"When can I see him?"

"He'll be in recovery for a bit, then moved to ICU. You'll be able to see him then, probably an hour." The surgeon turned to walk away.

"Umm, doc?" He caught up with the surgeon, away from the others. "Doc, tell me straight. What are DiNozzo's chances?" The surgeon wiped a hand tiredly across his eyes and shook his head.

"I don't like to give odds, Mr. Gibbs, but your man's condition is critical at this point. He'll be lucky to get back to full stamina, and I don't see that happening. His heart sustained a lot of damage, and with his lungs already compromised…It doesn't look too good. Still, he's kept himself fit and in shape, and he's a hell of a fighter, so at least he's got that going for him."Gibbs nodded, feeling the irrational desire to roll his eyes. Every damn doctor felt it necessary to say 'he's a fighter' at some point or another, and he was tired of it. The surgeon walked away, and Gibbs watched him leave, feeling overwhelmed once again by everything that was going on.

"He's right, you know," Ducky said suddenly, appearing out of nowhere behind him. "He is a fighter, Jethro. Reminds me of a lad I knew back in England once…" Gibbs shook his head, strangely grateful for the normalcy of Ducky's comment.

An hour or so later, Gibbs found himself sitting at his stricken agent's side, unsettled by Tony's stillness and poor coloration. The amount of medical…stuff attached to DiNozzo was disturbing, to say the least, and the large bandage over his chest was anything but reassuring. Holding his friend's still hand in his, Gibbs realized that the time had come for him to really take stock of the relationship he had with Tony.

"Don't worry, DiNozzo. You're going to be okay. I'm going to be right here, every step of the way. That's a damn promise."

Leroy Jethro Gibbs had made his decision.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: So Gibbs may seem a little bit out of character, but I figured he might be a bit more affectionate considering the circumstances.

A/N 2: If anyone has a story that they really want written or a challenge or anything, feel free to PM me, as I would love some ideas and it's harder to find time now that I'm dealing with finals and all that crap…

xxxx

Vance sat despondently in his office, elbows propped up on his desk, head cradled in his hands. The intensity of his feelings was unsettling. Sure, he had never wanted anything to happen to DiNozzo despite their less than stellar relationship, but the concern and (though he would never admit it) _sadness_ he felt was surprising.

He'd grown fond of the mischievous, usually immature, often irritating, regularly brilliant man. Much as he hated to acknowledge it, DiNozzo was a crack investigator, great in interrogation, and highly respected by the other members of Gibbs' team. In fact, Vance had just grown to realize that the team simply did not function very well without him. DiNozzo's upbeat attitude, constant teasing, and role as buffer between Gibbs and the other agents created an atmosphere that Vance found lacking in other teams, a unique family feel that Vance couldn't imagine surviving without him.

Sighing loudly, Vance scrubbed tiredly at his eyes, frustrated with the situation and the decisions he would be forced to make. A loud knock at the door startled him from his wallowing, and he knew before it opened who would be standing on the other side.

"Gibbs. Come in," he said, waving a hand at the silver haired agent. Gibbs walked in silently, sitting in the chair across from Vance's without an invitation.

"What's going on, Gibbs?" Vance asked, fairly certain that it would have something to do with DiNozzo. He was more than surprised when Gibbs slid a white envelope across the desk. He stared at it for a minute, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open.

"I'm retiring, Leon." Vance blinked, shooting a look up at Gibbs.

"Like hell you are," he said, and Gibbs chuckled. He slid another envelope, this one bigger, to Vance, nodding at it.

Vance slowly sifted through the paperwork, occasionally looking up at Gibbs.

"You think McGee should be senior agent?" Vance couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. Much as he liked Tim, he was surprised that Gibbs would choose him to replace DiNozzo.

"I do. He's grown up a lot lately, Vance. He may not have the intuition that Tony has, but he's smart and methodical, and he knows his way around all the technological mumbo-jumbo we need. You give him a few years as senior agent, and I think he could be team lead in a few years."

"And Ziva?"

"She knows what she's doing. Great in interrogation and out in the field."

"And who's this? Michael Orwell?"

"I looked over the files I had of applicants. He'd make a good probie."

"And team lead?"

Gibbs smiled. "That's your call, Leon." Vance shook his head, filtering absently through the papers again.

"So you're really doing this, Gibbs?" Gibbs nodded once, pushing his chair back from the table.

"I've already tried retiring once, figured it's time."

"And DiNozzo?"

"He's gonna need a lot of help, Vance. I'm going to be there to give it to him." Vance studied the man in front of him, yet again surprised by him. He knew that Gibbs had grown fond of DiNozzo, maybe even considered him like a son, but he couldn't have predicted this. Not by a long shot.

"Okay. I wish you the best of luck, Gibbs. And I know we've had our differences but…It's been an honor working with you." Gibbs nodded and stood, and Vance mimicked his movements, sticking his hand out.

"DiNozzo was a damn fine agent as well. Sorry to see him go."

"Yeah, me too," Gibbs answered, grasping the outstretched hand firmly. "See ya around, Leon."

xxxx

Gibbs' team had been so obliterated of late that for the time being, at least, they were off-duty. It meant that Gibbs' announcement would be made even more personal, done one at a time.

Ziva was first, finishing up the last bit of paperwork related to the accident, looking up and smiling tiredly.

"Gibbs. I was not expecting you." Gibbs didn't respond, instead sitting in the chair across from Ziva, sitting with his elbows draped over his knees.

"Ziva." He was a bit uncertain of where to begin, finally decided to just get it out there. "I won't be coming back, Ziva." Ziva maintained eye contact before looking down, blinking rapidly.

"So we are losing both you and Tony," she whispered, and Gibbs nodded, placing a hand on her knee. "I am glad to have worked with you, Gibbs."

"The feeling is mutual, Ziva. I'm proud of you." Ziva stood, wiping her eyes, and wrapped her arms around Gibbs.

"Take care of him, Gibbs," she murmured. Stepping back, she smiled sadly at him, sniffling quietly.

"I will, Ziva. Take care."

xxxx

Ducky reacted about as Gibbs expected him to.

"Oh, Jethro. I believe that you're making the best decision you could in this situation, and Anthony certainly needs it, but I will surely miss you."

"Thanks, Duck. It's been a long time. Things won't seem the same without seeing you every day."

"The feeling is mutual, my friend, but I have never felt such pride in you as I do today. I wish you luck."

xxxx

Abby cried. Gibbs wasn't surprised, wasn't even really taken aback by how passionate she was in her cries, but he still felt bad, gently stroking her hair and recognizing that no amount of Caff-Pows would make this better.

"B-but I'm l-losing you _and_ T-Tony! What am I g-going to d-do?"

"You're going to do what you always do, Abs. Kick forensic ass and take names." Abby sniffed loudly, looking up from Gibbs' shoulder where she had buried her face.

"I can still come to your house, right? I can still come see you and Tony?"

"Of course, Abby. I'm retiring, not cutting myself off from you."

"Okay. As soon as Tony's out of the hospital, I'll come over and cook dinner. And we'll marathon some of Tony's favorite movies."

"Sounds great, Abs." There was a comfortable silence in which they just stood quietly, Abby still wrapped up in Gibbs' embrace.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," she whispered again, and Gibbs kissed her head gently.

"You're going to do just fine, Abs."

xxxx

McGee didn't say anything at first, just laid in the hospital bed, head turned away from Gibbs and clearly trying to hold back tears.

"Tim-"

"This is my fault, Gibbs. I shouldn't have taken Tony and I should've had his six and now he's gone and you're gone and it's all a big shitty mess," he gasped, the words tumbling out of him in a river that he couldn't seem to stop.

"McGee, listen to me. Yeah, maybe not the best call, but that was DiNozzo's decision too, and chances are it wouldn't have been too long before we found out about the extent of the damage one way or another. You can't keep blaming yourself for this, Tim." McGee nodded, blinking rapidly in an obvious attempt to keep himself from crying.

"I recommended you for senior agent." Tim looked up with tear bright eyes, expression blatantly surprised.

"Me? You think I'm ready?"

"Would I say so if I didn't? You've grown up a lot, McGee. Still got a lot to learn, but you'll get there."

"Thanks, Gibbs," McGee said quietly, but it was clear that it wasn't sitting entirely well with him.

"McGee. I'm only saying this once, so pay attention, you understand?" He continued when he noticed Tim's tentative nod. "You did _not_ cause this. Shit happens. You have to accept it and you have to move on."

"I know," McGee said, lower lip trembling. "It's just- it won't be the same without you and Tony. I don't know-" Tim trailed off uncertainly, picking absently at the blanket draped over his legs.

"It won't be the same, McGee. But it couldn't stay the same way forever, you know that. You're going to be fine. Better than fine. You've got a lot ahead of you, Tim. Chin up."

"Thanks Gibbs. Make sure-make sure you keep him in line."

"I will."

xxxx

Tony, already weak and exhausted, broke down so completely that Gibbs was somewhat taken aback. It wasn't the violence of Abby's reaction and it wasn't the awkwardness of McGee's. It was quiet sobs that wracked his whole body, it was a refusal to make eye contact, it was biting his lip until a small trickle of blood ran down his chin.

"Tony-"

"No. You can't do this." His voice was hoarse and broken, but firm.

"Yes I can, DiNozzo. Since when do I take orders from you?"

"No Gibbs. Please, not-not like this." Gibbs was silent, quietly inspecting the man in front of him. Tony had yet to regain his normal coloring and still looked too gray, a bandage swathed across his chest, an oxygen cannula in his nose. There were dark rings under his eyes, a slightly irregular heartbeat beeping its rhythm behind him.

"Tony. You know that I've tried to retire once already. I'm not as young as I once was, and the time's come, DiNozzo. Besides, you gotta have somebody to cover your ass. Might as well be me."

"No Gibbs. No. Please, no-"

"Tony! Tony, it's okay. It's going to be okay."

Holding onto Tony's shivering body as he sobbed, Gibbs knew without a doubt that he was where he needed to be. They might not know what the future held, but it would be okay, because it would be together.

xxxx

The day Tony was scheduled to be released from the hospital, Gibbs returned to the office for the last time, gently packing up DiNozzo's things, shaking his head with a slight smile when he found all of his medals in Tony's drawer. When the box was full and Tony's desk was empty, he moved on to his own, tossing his things carelessly into his box. When he was done, he stood for a moment, looking back at the place he'd called home for years, then stepped on the elevator with the boxes tucked under his arm, and headed forward to Tony and to a new future.


End file.
